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cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

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A Boy Like You | Yoongi

→ summary: for whenever you are feeling low, always remember that there is a boy you know who would lift the sky for you.

{or alternatively: Min Yoongi loves you, though he never says it. He’s always been a firm believer in that actions speak louder than any words ever could.}

→ genre: coworker!au, f2l, fluff → warnings: an overabundance of shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to squish his cheeks; kinda ooc but it is what it is → words: 11.5K → a/n: whaddup kids it’s ya girl... back from the dead after months of not writing shit, and what’s this owo... it’s a fluff fic?? miracles do happen... anyway i wrote this bc i just thot “man, wouldn’t it be super epic if i wrote a super self-indulgent fic where yoongi fulfills every single one of my deepest desires?” well... here is THIS!! pls feel free to scream into a pillow bc i certainly did!! enjoy!!

There is a boy you know who likes to show his kindness quietly. It would go something like this:

The air is thick with static; your hair stands up on end: a warning. The scent of raindrops hitting hot pavement graces your nostrils as a waterfall drops from the sky. You see the sea of heads begin to disappear under a canopy of multi-colored umbrellas. You, the lone ranger, rush back into the building from whence you came, dragging puddles and annoyance with you.

You should have anticipated it, should have thought to check the weather app before scrolling through dull social media posts when you left your house that morning. Instead, your fingers are left cold and umbrella-less.

You tilt your head upwards, watching as gallon upon gallon fell from the sky in an endless cycle. The watch on your wrist reads 5 PM, but the sky says it is 9 PM. The dark, swirling mass of clouds above you will continue on its thunderous parade, pausing for no one, especially not for you.

Your work bag is practically weightless, devoid of anything that might protect you from the onslaught of rain. The only thing inside is a small wallet that holds nothing more than dust and a loose promise of a paycheck. There is no way you can call a taxi like this, and the nearest bus stop is at least two blocks away. You are starting to think that your childhood dreams of becoming a mermaid hadn’t been so ridiculous after all.

Then comes the hand of God. It touches your shoulder gently, hesitantly. You turn around to face a stranger, a boy with shaggy black hair and pale moonlight skin. It is not God, but he comes close.

In his other hand is your salvation wrapped in Kumamon print nylon. It is proffered to you with a silent nod, his gaze fixed somewhere behind you as he waits for you to take it. The tips of his ears begin to redden the longer it takes for you to respond. Eventually, your brain connects with your muscles as you robotically pluck the umbrella from his grasp, a stuttered “thanks” leaving your lips.

He nods stiffly once more, removing his palm from your shoulder as though he had been burned. He shuffles for a moment, mouth opening and closing as he struggles to find the words to say. You wait, patience never waning for the strange boy that you have come to know as your salvation.

He doesn’t find the words after all. You aren’t too offended by his silence, but he appears to be mortified. And so, he leaves just as quickly as he had appeared, like a whirlwind dressed in an oversized blazer flapping behind him like wings. He runs through the rain without another thought, an arm raised above his head in a futile attempt to avoid getting wet.

You try calling out to him, wanting to thank him once more and maybe to ask how you can return his umbrella, but he is long gone. A speck of black dashing through the gray.

You clutch the umbrella closer to you, a feeling of something new growing inside of you. It is too small to call anything, but it is warm.

x x x x x

Umbrella boy has a name, and he happens to work on the same floor as you. You know this because he is standing right in front of you in all his bespectacled glory.

He ducks out of view the moment your eyes meet his. There is a stack of folders in his arms, and he bows his head until his nose touches manila. It’s too late––he knows you caught him staring. He scurries behind walls of filing cabinets and desk cubicles, desperate to get back to his desk where he hopes you’ll never find him.

The office floor is large, but it is not large enough to hide in. It takes only a few minutes until you find him hunched over his desk, every inch of space taken by enough towers of paper to cover a forest. It is no wonder that you never encountered your mysterious umbrella boy; he does a wonderful job of blending in.

Your eyes trail his form, not out of any perverse intent, but just out of curiosity. You never would have guessed from his unassuming and meek nature, but the boy is devastatingly beautiful. The devil is in the details: you admire the soft slope of his nose to the adorable pout of his lips. His eyelids are charmingly mismatched and his cheeks are begging to be pinched. It takes a year’s worth of self-restraint to keep your hands at your sides, if only so you don’t scare him away before you can even introduce yourself.

(You can already imagine your HR department contacting you about nonconsensual manhandling… You admit that you tend to get overzealous with your affection, especially when confronted with cute things. This boy would definitely need to watch out for you if he knows what’s best for him.)

((Also note to self: Stop having these psychopathic conversations with yourself. Being stuck inside the cage which is your brain is torture enough, so let’s not encourage it to get worse.))

There is a lanyard laced around his neck, the gaudy orange color of your company’s logo emblazoned across the thin material. And just out of your line of sight, you catch a glimpse of his ID. His name is––

“Y-Y/N?” He stutters out–no–he squeaks. Ah, so he’s noticed you. The folder in his hand slips out of his grasp, an avalanche of white tumbling all over his lap. He curses loudly, frantically sweeping away the mess under his desk, as if he could somehow magically make them disappear if he just kicked them hard enough. Unfortunately, the papers stay stubbornly tangible, and he is left with a halo of accounting reports around his workspace as a result.

“Are you�� umm…” You hesitate with your words, fearing that any sudden movement on your part might cause umbrella boy to combust on the spot. “Do you need help… picking those up?”

“I–Well, no–Yes, but–” His sentences are stilted, his brain struggling to catch up with his tongue. He clamps his mouth shut, then shakes his head like he’s trying to reboot himself. Finally, after a few more deep breaths, he goes, “No. I’m fine. Thank you for offering.” He says that, but he appears awfully content with staring holes into the keyboard of his laptop when he is speaking to you though.

“Still… I’m terribly sorry for startling you,” you say, lips tugging downwards into a frown. You should have guessed he was skittish from how he had acted yesterday, but it’s quite a surprise to see one man so… disastrous, for lack of a better term. It’s awfully cute. “I just wanted to properly introduce myself and thank you for lending me your umbrella yesterday, but it seems like you already knew who I was.”

His face does a weird thing then and there. It almost appears like he was caught in a time loop, like someone was manually reversing and replaying his facial expressions like a video. It takes a few minutes for his little stroke to settle down, but even then, his cheeks remain a rosy pink. “I–I just… remembered your name during the company retreat the other month. I’m not weird or anything, I swear!”

“Well luckily, I was never going to accuse you of being weird anyway!” You laugh, trying to ease the perpetual look of anxiety on his face. However, it only seems to worsen his nerves with how quickly his skin starts to redden. “In fact, I should be apologizing for not remembering your name, Mister..?”

“Min Yoongi,” he replies, pausing for a second too long. He must have realized his delay because he coughs awkwardly into his forearm, averting his gaze away from you in a futile attempt to become nothing more than an abstract thought.

He must be equipped with some sort of superpower, because you’re starting to feel his secondhand embarrassment flood through you like a tsunami. Are you that difficult to converse with? Does he want to be left alone so badly that he’s trying to subtlely tell you to fuck off?

You’re about to start apologizing and scurry off back to your desk in barely concealed mortification when Yoongi clears his throat, his gaze fixed somewhere to your right. Whatever caught his attention must have been revolutionary with how large his eyes are, although last you remember is that the wall behind you is the same dull jailcell gray that you have come to know and hate.

“I just… I’m sorry if I’m acting odd right now. I just wasn’t expecting you to come to my cubicle and I would’ve… I don’t know, tidied up? If I knew you were coming,” he mutters, propping his glasses back up when they start sliding down his nose. They make their slow descent back down immediately after, forever on an endless cycle of up and down his face.

“You don’t have to clean up just for me! I’m not your manager or anything,” you say, surveying the absolute disaster zone that is his workspace. For his benefit, you sure hope that he has a map of his desk and filing cabinets, as it would have been a miracle otherwise if he memorized where anything was located in his personal office sty. “Though, it would be nice if you could see the bottom of your desk every once in a while.”

To your immense surprise, Yoongi lets out a resounding laugh at your quip. Though Yoongi isn’t a mute by any means, it isn’t like he spoke with much volume either. You hadn’t even thought your joke was funny enough to deserve a strained Caucasian™️ smile, so you appreciate that he had considered that you were even slightly funny. You love the pleasant tinkling of his laughter, so genuinely joyous that you can’t help but want to make a fool of yourself just so you can hear it again and again.

When Yoongi stops, the familiar reddish hue that has made a home on his cheeks resurfaces, though it’s less from embarrassment now. His shoulders are more relaxed, and he doesn’t look like he wants to crawl out of his skin as much. He still has eyes averted away from you, however. “Sorry. I don’t know why I laughed too hard at that. I’m normally not this weird… I think it’s just the nerves.”

You cock your head to the side. “Nerves? From what?”

Yoongi freezes, mouth gaping open slightly. “I, umm…” He coughs into his white button-up sleeve, pupils shaking as he formulates a response. “Just from… work. Yeah, I just have a lot of paperwork to do this week and I’ve been, er, having difficulty relaxing.”

Yoongi visibly breathes a sigh of relief when you accept his flimsy excuse, not really lingering on the validity of his statement. “Oh, sure! Don’t overwork yourself too much, okay?” you say, smiling sweetly back at him. He stares, wide-eyed, not really sure how to go on with his life after he’d been blasted by the full force of your grin.

God, you hope you remembered to use a toothpick during lunch. Was there spinach in your teeth? Oh fuck.

“Gah,” he intones, his brain not fully cooperating with his mouth just yet. If you were any more socially inept, you’d probably be doing the same. Eventually, he clears his throat and tries again. “Uh. Yes. I’ll try to do better next time.”

Feeling like you’ve overstayed your visit, you decide that it might be best for you to leave him be before either of you do or say anything more awkward and stupid. Before you turn to leave however, you decide to extend your hand forward, hoping to erase all the previous awkwardness between the both of you and hopefully start afresh. Even though you’ve only just met, you can’t help but feel drawn to him, wanting to see him again and somehow gain his friendship. “Hey, no sweat. It was really nice meeting you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Just Yoongi is fine,” he says, almost like an afterthought. He’s so busy staring at your proffered hand that you are afraid that you might have offended him unknowingly or something. Does he think you don’t wash your hands? Given by the fact that your office’s manager refuses to restock the soap dispensers at the washrooms, that isn’t that much of a stretch. Or maybe he was weirded out by your random handshake? Have handshakes become antiquated these days? Are the kids no longer doing it? Are you supposed to do those awful brohugs like the fresh-out-of-college interns do in the breakroom? Oh God, does Yoongi think you’re old?!

While you were in the midst of your mental breakdown, you soon begin to realize why Yoongi had contemplated returning your handshake for so long. Instead of taking your hand immediately, Yoongi rubs his own two palms together first, much like how one would when warming their hands in front of a fire. He takes care to blow on them slightly before grasping your hand firmly in his, finally bestowing you with your much awaited handshake.

“Umm..?” You stare at your intertwined hands, a little confused about the previous series of events that just happened five seconds ago. Yoongi, in all his adorable and flustered glory, releases your hand much too quickly like he’s been shocked, most likely realizing (belatedly) that what he had done might not be as clear to an observer as it is to himself.

“Oh, I – I’m so sorry about that, again.” Yoongi stutters, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “It’s just – my hands are really cold so I was trying to warm them up before I held your hands. I’m – I only just realized how odd that must have looked. Sorry.”

A rush of endearment and warmth surges through you as you behold this high strung boy, your heart flooded with a mix of emotions that make you feel gooey and blissful in one perfect package. No, this boy is the perfect package, all soft edges and blushy cheeks. It’s going to take a mountain and a room of vengeful deities to stop you from walking past his desk to catch a glimpse of him at this rate.

Oh God, you’re whipped already and it’s only been a few minutes since you said hello. He warmed his hand for you for heaven’s sake! Surely your enthusiasm can be excused in this one instance.

“That’s, uhh…” Now it seems that it is your turn to be at a loss of words, your throat clogged with a clump of newly discovered feelings that you don’t have enough time to sort through at the moment. The hamster running circles inside your brain has long since ground to a halt, and if Yoongi is going to keep staring at you with those charming cat eyes for any longer, you aren’t sure you’ll be able to convince the little vermin inside your skull to puppet your body again. “That’s… really sweet. Thank you.”

Thank you? Really, Y/N?

“It’s, uh, no problem. Really.” And with that, Yoongi presents to you his most deadly smile to date: blinding whites coupled his prominent pink gums, with his cheeks stretched like proofed dough that make his dark eyes disappear. Is there a pencil wedged inside your chest cavity, or were you just spontaneously having a heart attack? It’s hard to say; all you know is that your organs have turned to slush, and you make a mental note to send the imminent hospital bill to a certain Min Yoongi.

Cause of hemorrhage: being too fucking cute.

With your daily dose of embarrassment fulfilled, you turn to leave with short stilted steps, as if you have to force yourself away from him like those stubborn souvenir shop magnets that never come off the fridge. “I guess I’ll see you around?” you say more like a question, unsure if he’ll even want to ever see you after that disaster of an interaction. Kim Namjoon from Accounting would be entirely too delighted if he ever found out that he wasn’t the most awkward human being in the office.

“Sure? I’ll just be here. As always,” Yoongi replies kindly, same gummy grin on his face, albeit a little more hesitant. “It was nice speaking to you, Y/N.”

When he returns his attention to his workspace, it serves as a signal to you that you really should be going. Before you leave, you take note of the subtle red tint of his ears that reaches the back of his neck, the gentle tremor of his hands as he reorganizes the files that he had previously dropped. It makes you feel odd for relishing in the fact that you hadn’t been the only one feeling the tension between the two of you, though that doesn’t help lessen the confusion that soon follows anyway.

Why are you so drawn to him? You have never felt so strongly for someone this quickly, and frankly it sort of frightened you. You’re too afraid to confront that blossoming curiosity inside of you. No, it’s much too soon for that. For now, however…

“Oh shit. I totally forgot to give him back his umbrella,” you curse yourself once you return to your desk. The smiling face of Kumamon looks at you knowingly, as if this had been planned all along.

Well. Now you have an excuse to see him again tomorrow, at least.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his tenderness quietly. It would go something like this:

Company dinners shouldn’t feel like as much as a punishment as it does, but that’s just how social gatherings with semi-professional coworkers are like. No one here really wants to be there, but the carefully worded e-mail sent to the entire company clearly suggests that this was more of a “go to the party or risk getting fired” type of deal than anything remotely enjoyable. As much as free food and booze are often harbingers of a good time, it hardly makes any difference when your inebriated boss spends the entire time chatting you up in front of the presence of a dozen or so indifferent associates.

“Oh, Y/N! Good job securing that deal with Mister Park the other day. It’s all thanks to my valuable tutelage, is it not?” your manager guffaws, slapping your back with misplaced camaraderie. He leaves his warm, sweaty palm there, feeling it slide an inch lower than you were comfortable with anyone being. The smell of cheap wine on his breath is making you feel nauseous, and the tacky black and white tiled flooring isn’t doing anything to lessen the incoming migraine.

“Right,” you say with a tight-lipped smile, unable to say anything else lest you lose your job over something silly like establishing boundaries. It’s no wonder that the number of female employees on your floor has significantly dropped over the years, especially with rumors attaching themselves like maggots all over your stupid manager’s name. You wouldn’t be surprised if his stomach exploded ala Alien (1979) style with how much bullshit resides in his body and soul.

You’ve long since given up on anyone saving you, not when everyone was either too busy taking advantage of the free food or too scared to confront your shitty boss. You resign to your fate, ready to scrub yourself clean with a brick once you get home in a futile attempt to rid yourself of the feeling of his hands on you.

That is, until someone clears their throat from behind you.

Salvation comes to you wrapped in a crisp white button-up, thick-rimmed glasses, and cat-like eyes. You almost want to start breaking into Gregorian chant just then to fully express your gratitude to the deities of above for sending an angel in your time of tribulation.

“Excuse me,” the (welcome) intruder says, voice quiet but clear even amidst the cacophonous music and chatter. Min Yoongi steps forward until he is to your right, and you don’t miss the way his shoulder “accidentally” bumps your manager hard enough for him to drop his hand from your back. When Yoongi smiles at your manager, it is all teeth and no mirth, his eyes carefully blank.

Thankfully, your manager isn’t quite as fortunate in his brains department as he is in his stomach. “Oh, Yoongi! It is so nice to finally see you attend one of our social functions. You are enjoying yourself, I hope?” your manager asks, guffawing loudly despite no joke being said. You never did quite understand how some men think they are the most hilarious thing to ever exist since clowns, though you suppose your manager was only missing the red nose to complete the look.

“Thrilled, Mister Lee. Absolutely thrilled,” Yoongi says in a dead monotone voice. You can’t help but giggle at his sarcasm, and Yoongi points a wicked grin back at you before returning to his neutral and passive “work” face.

The sarcasm flies over your managers head like you expected, though you can hardly blame the alcohol for his lack of cognizance. You wouldn’t be half surprised if you knocked lightly on his head, only to hear a resounding echo following thereafter.

“I have never seen you at any of our parties before, Yoongi. What’s with the sudden change of heart?” your manager asks.

“Sir, I’ve attended every single social gathering since I was hired,” Yoongi says plainly, his composure never faltering. He must have better control than you, because you’re sure you would’ve barely held yourself back from smacking your manager had it been you. Though in fairness, you aren’t sure if you’ve ever noticed Yoongi at any of the other parties before this one either.

“Oh really? Well then, you mustn’t have said hello before then!” your manager laughs, patting Yoongi on the shoulder. “Always so enigmatic, our dear Yoongi! Well, keep up the good work.” When your manager turns his attention to speak to another one of your poor coworkers, Yoongi visibly gags from behind your manager’s back, grimacing as he pats away all traces of that foul man’s hand germs away from his dress shirt.

“Gross. Now my sleeve is damp,” he mutters, just audible enough so that only you could hear. You laugh out loud at that, nodding in understanding.

“Same here. There’s probably a gross sweaty handprint on my back now,” you say, wincing when you do feel a noticeable damp spot near the small of your back. “Ugh, what a pig.”

“Tell me about it,” Yoongi shakes his head, making a move to get away from your awful manager. He gestures for you to follow him, and you are more than happy to oblige.

“Thanks for saving me, by the way,” you add, keeping in step with him. He leads you out of the disorienting ballroom, though he doesn’t head towards the exit like you had expected. He appears to know the building much more than you do, given by how assuredly he walks. Either that, or he could be leading you to a deadend, but confidently.

“No problem. You honestly looked like you were about to punt him across the room, though I doubt anyone would be opposed to that magnificent spectacle,” Yoongi jokes, same mischievous grin from before decorating his face. He is so different from the taciturn man you had met two weeks ago, back when he had half-hidden behind his desk like an animal being cornered. Though, that might not be the best analogy to think of, as it only painted you as some sort of predator who came after meek and soft-looking men. Which you aren’t. Hopefully.

“Oh, I would’ve done more than just that, so really he should be thanking you for saving him,” you snort, and Yoongi chuckles lightly in response. Like before, his laughter is just as pleasant as you remember. Your greedy heart yearns to elicit the same sound from him once more, for as many times as you can muster before the night ends.

You had been so immersed in trying to keep up with his quick strides that you don’t notice where exactly he has taken you. The two of you haven’t gone too far away from the ballroom before he stops right in front of a metal double door, the neon green exit sign about it glowing conspicuously in the otherwise dimly lit corridor. He pushes it open, allowing the cool evening air to blow across you and your hand-me-down dress.

“Are we… at the balcony?” you ask, though the view that greets you is answer enough. How Yoongi could have known where the balcony is, you can’t say for certain. But any sort of question dies on your lips when you see how beautiful the skyline is: the stars and city lights twinkling indiscriminately, the sound of nightlife and traffic sounding loud despite the streets being so far away, the smell of ozone signalling an oncoming storm.

This, of course, is what you imagine the view to be like. You know, if the ever reliable Seoul smog wasn’t there to obstruct any sort of magical, romantic view that you should have been privy to.

“Oh damn. I forgot the smog forecast today was especially bad,” Yoongi groans from beside you, quickly shuffling through his pant pockets for a face mask. He procurs two black masks, still in their plastic packaging, and hands one of them to you. “Jesus. Sorry about this. Didn’t expect the smog to be so bad… We can just go back inside, if you want?”

Then, you are reminded of your manager, who is basically pollution incarnate with how terrible his breath is. So, you accept Yoongi’s proffered mask and promptly put it on. “Yeah, no thanks,” you say, voice muffled slightly by the fabric. The implication of your acceptance makes Yoongi grin cheekily back at you (or so you think, guessing by how his eyes crinkle cutely above his mask.)

Now properly equipped to not inhale disgusting air matter into your lungs, you step out farther across the balcony, enjoying the way the cool night breeze feels against your alcohol flushed face. (Though, if you were being honest, the heat on your cheeks has less to do with the meager flute of champagne you had earlier and more to do with the company you currently find yourself with.)

“I fucking hate these company dinners,” you whine a little bit too petulantly, complete with the jutted lip of a child who has been forced to wait as her mother engages in an eternity long conversation with an acquaintance. You lean against the railings near the edge of the building, watching idly as Yoongi does the same. “Don’t you think that if they wanted us to get ‘closer’ with one another, they’d first want to address the fact that some of our coworkers happen to be pigs dressed in white collared shirts?”

Yoongi snorts at that, his right hand immediately coming up to his mouth to silence the unflattering sound. Not that it wasn’t completely charming to you, but you do enjoy the slight abashment that blooms across his face shortly thereafter. “Sorry, didn’t mean to laugh like that. But, I do agree with you… I can’t say that anyone in our department is especially fond of that Habsburg motherfucker.”

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol in your system, or perhaps it was the sudden rush of realizing that Yoongi is strangely attractive when he swears, but the laugh that exits your mouth sounds a touch too crazed for your liking. Either that, or perhaps you’re finally dying from the pollution.

Luckily for the both of you, it seems that Yoongi likes your weird laugh just as much as you like his. He tries to hide a smile before continuing, “Like, come on! I’m sorry for saying that because attacks on physical appearance is always a low blow, but why the fuck does that dude look like he’s been compressed and flattened on Photoshop? He’s got perpetual flat-face syndrome. You could - you could land a damn plane on his face or some shit.”

The cork inside of your bursts, and you let out the most ungodly guffaw in your life. You don’t even have the time to be embarrassed by how loud your howls are, not when every word he says hits the mark a little bit too close to home. There’s nothing quite as pleasing than sharing mutual dislike for the same person, and it fills you with the utmost glee that Yoongi is no exception to that rule.

“Oh god… You’re right. You are absolutely right. I seriously can’t believe anyone can put up with him. I mean, the damned bastard couldn’t even remember my name until two weeks ago,” you say, shaking your head in disgust. The first few times he had forgotten, you had been gracious enough to laugh away his mistakes as little more than that: mistakes. But when five years pass and peanuts-for-a-brain still hasn’t deemed that remembering your name to be as important as when the “next big Game™” is, then it’s easy to understand the depth of your resentment towards your manager.

“Are you for real?” Yoongi asks, brows raised in shock. “How could anyone ever forget you – I mean, shit, uh,” Yoongi coughs suddenly, red-faced. You tilt your head in confusion, waiting for him to finish. He’s still kind of spluttering when he continues, “What I meant to say is… H-how could anyone forget their employees name after working here for so long?”

You shrug your shoulders. “I have no idea. Honestly, I think he’s trying to purposefully forget everything I tell him. One time, he had asked me what plans I had for Christmas, and I mentioned to him how I was going to be visiting my parents back home, and he has the gall to ask what country I’m from. Like???” Your face contorts as if you had eaten an entire lemon, so wracked with disbelief that Yoongi can see the hypothetical question marks floating above your head. “Bitch, do I look foreign to that bastard? I’ve lived here all my life!”

Yoongi hums, thoughtful. “Your parents live just an hour away from here, right?”

“I… Yeah, they do,” you reply. You eye Yoongi curiously, watching his all-too familiar flush resurfacing on his neck once more. “Wait… How do you know that?”

“You… You were talking about them, once. To Seulgi? Yea, you were, um…” Yoongi coughs unassuredly, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous tick of his, you suppose. “It was a year ago? Something about visiting them during the weekend… Not that I was eavesdropping on purpose! I would never, er, do that…”

You don’t even register his embarrassment as you are mostly shell shocked that he had even remembered that little tidbit from over a year ago. Hell, you didn’t even remember going to your parent’s house until he mentioned it. “No it’s fine, I get it. I’m just surprised that you even bothered to remember that.”

Now it’s his turn to look at you strangely. “Of course I remember. Why wouldn’t I?”

You stare at him in disbelief. Fluttering of wings begin to erupt in your stomach, but you hardly have the peace of mind to fully grasp why you were even feeling so flustered in the first place. It was just that he had said it so… matter-of-fact, like there was no possible way he could’ve forgotten even if he tried. It was kind of disconcerting, but flattering all the same. But more importantly--

“Wait, you’ve been working at the company since last year? How have I never seen you before this month?!”

“Oh,” Yoongi coughs out a laugh, scratching the end of his nose. He turns his gaze away, looking anywhere but you. “I was just, umm… Really quiet? I don’t really talk to anyone unless I need to. I’m more of a listener.”

“Oh my God, now I feel even more terrible for not knowing your name! I must look like an egotistic bitch to you,” you despair lowly, cupping your face into your hands in shame. You feel another pair of cold hands clasp your wrists, and you watch in shock as he pulls your palms away with a determined expression.

“What? Of course not. You are definitely not an egotistic bitch, Y/N. In fact, you’re the complete opposite,” Yoongi whispers, so quiet that you might have imagined it. He grasps your hands tightly, like he’s desperate for you to believe him.

You stammer in embarrassment, staring wide-eyed at Yoongi as you try to regrasp your comprehension skills. It’s especially hard to concentrate with how close Yoongi is to you, the latter unaware of his own proximity. He had stepped closer towards you to hold your hand, and normally you hated it when people touched you without permission, but somehow… This was alright.

(Unbeknownst to you, this will not be the first time that Yoongi becomes your secret little exception. It’s only the first of many.)

“I-I don’t really know what to say?” Your gaze is locked on his firm grip on your hands, the only thing flitting through your mind: damn, this dude’s hands really are fucking freezing!

It takes another few seconds for Yoongi to calm down, and you know when it happens because the realization of what he had said makes itself apparent on his expression. He turns beet red in a second, stepping away from you with his arms flying off of you like those inflatable tube men outside car dealerships.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, taking two steps away from you. You almost take two steps forward to keep the distance closer, but you have a feeling that he would keep walking away from you until you both inevitably fall off the balcony, so you smartly choose to stay away (even if it pains you to do so). You wait for his breathing to settle, all the while still reeling from his blatant confession just moments ago.

Could you even consider it a confession? Were you being delulu, or is there some sort of connection that you and Yoongi were both feeling?

“Yoongi, it’s fine! Really,” you smile wryly, raising your hands towards him open-faced, much like how you would do when approaching an agitated animal. Like a nervous kitty, you think privately to yourself. “I’m really flattered that you feel so… strongly?”

“I’m… I’m really not like this normally. Honest,” Yoongi says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I… I never… do that. Whatever that was. Umm.”

Because you’re a freak of nature and enjoy exacerbating awkward social interactions, you decide to respond to him like this: “No worries, I’m flattered, honest! But hey, maybe next time you try to give me a compliment, you could look me in the eye?” You know, like an asshole. Who points out people’s social anxieties like that? You bitch!

On cue, Yoongi’s cheeks bloom into cherry blossoms once more. “I––I, I didn’t mean to––uh!” he stammers.

“No, no, I’m sorry for even saying that!” You apologize profusely, bowing so low that he could probably see the top of your spine. “I didn’t mean to tease you like that! I��m sorry! That was seriously out of line!”

What a pair the two of you were… Like two trains crashing into each other at mach speed, continuously and eternally. A constant and ongoing catastrophe!

(The little gremlin living inside your brain is knocking at your empty skull, whispering deviously, “But doesn’t that make the two of you the perfect pair?”)

When he doesn’t respond back immediately, you have to wrack up enough courage to look back at him. You gasp audibly when you do, and you have to forcibly grip the insides of your bicep to keep yourself from squealing in pure anguish.

Because there, right before your very eyes, is a blushing Min Yoongi looking you straight in the eye with his face squished between his hands, as if he’s forcibly keeping his head locked in place. His pupils are noticeably shaking and his brows are furrowed in concentration, but he’s looking at you. Like you asked.

He’s… He’s too…

“Okay, let me try this again.” Yoongi takes a deep breath, steeling himself for what may be the most embarrassing thing he has ever done in his life. “Y… You’re a great person, Y/N. I hope you know that,” he whispers, voice trailing off by the end of his sentence.

He’s dry heaving like he’s just finished a marathon, but he hasn’t taken his eyes off of you. You’re worried if he even remembers how to blink with how intensely he’s staring you down, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him when your heart is quite literally beating out of your chest like a cartoon character from the 80’s.

“I…” You’re at a loss of words. If Min Yoongi can capture you like this with just a look, then think of how much more powerful he would be if he just learned how to use it. You’re slipping into real dangerous waters, and you don’t know if you’re just a frog in boiling water or if this is where you were meant to be all along.

“Yoongi, I didn’t mean for you to… force yourself like that, really…”

The moment breaks, finally, when Yoongi begins to cry.

“Shit!” you both exclaim, but for two different reasons. “Are you okay? Oh my god!” you reach out for him, not even thinking when you cup his cheeks in your hands. He gently pushes you away with one hand, while the other goes to scrub at his tears.

“Yes, I’m fine! A piece of dust got caught in my eye and I was too slow to blink it away,” he explains, still wiping at his cheeks. He pulls his mask down to his chin, pouting cutely at you. “Sorry. I’m not used to looking people in the eye yet. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

Oh my god. At this point, you’d be surprised if your heart was located anywhere near your body. You were running purely on autopilot, so enamored by the boy in front of you that you could almost faint. He was entirely too unreal, unbelievably so. Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you’d be able to find your heart again, and you know the first place where you’d look.

“Give it back,” you mumble, and Yoongi tilts his head at you in confusion.

“Sorry? Did you say something?”

“Nothing,” you reply, reaching over him and snapping his mask back on his face. You laugh as he splutters in surprise, floundering about overdramatically as if the elastic on the mask had done any damage to him at all. “Oh, stop it. You’re just being silly now.”

“Hey, I have delicate skin! You never know,” he jokes, but stops when you give him an unimpressed look.

“Sorry,” he laughs again. “And well, since I keep saying sorry today, and you look like you could use a little warming up, do you wanna leave this place and get some coffee? My treat.”

And really, who were you to say no to that?

And really, who were you to say no to Min Yoongi?

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his thoughtfulness quietly. It would go something like this:

A steaming hot coffee cup from the nearby cafe manifests itself on your desk one Monday morning. In your sleep-deprived haze, you had originally failed to realize that there was a hand connected to that cup and that it hadn’t actually just materialized from thin air like you had thought. After much blinking and staring, you crane your head up to see Jesus standing in front of you, his glasses still fogged from the outside chill.

“I got you a drink. I hope I remembered your order right,” Yoongi says in lieu of a greeting, a small smile gracing his lips as he watches you lethargically reach over for the cup to lift the lid open. His grin widens when he sees your eyes light up at the sight of little marshmallows bobbing up and down in your hot chocolate, bits of whipped cream already melting away from the heat. When you take a sip, you breathe a content sigh, your eyelids fluttering shut.

“Yoongi, I’m going to kiss your feet right now and you can’t stop me,” you say, upper lip lined with cream and sugar. Yoongi’s hand twitches by his side, but he doesn’t move.

“Even if I have toe fungus?”

“Especially if you have toe fungus,” you say, downing as much hot chocolate down your throat without choking and barfing all over him.

From the rim of your cup, you can see that Yoongi still has his parka on, his signature black mask pulled down his chin indicating that he’s only just arrived at the office. It makes your heart jump a little, knowing that he went straight to you first before anyone else that day.

“I still don’t understand how you hate coffee. Like, I don’t think I’d be able to be conversing with you right now if I didn’t have caffeine running through my veins,” he says, staring at you(r lips) as you chew a marshmallow thoughtfully.

You want to tell him that Yoongi doesn’t talk a lot anyway in the first place, though you have begun to notice that he’s becoming more talkative the more you hang out with him. However, you aren’t quite sure if you’re imagining it, but it seems like Yoongi’s change in personality doesn’t really apply when he’s with anyone else. On the days where you’d pass by his cubicle on the way to the water coolers, he’d still have his usual stoic expression on his face as he goes through his paperwork with the grace of a robot. When he’s with you, however…

“Says the guy who’s started drinking frappes after I suggested them to you. Don’t lie to me, Min Yoongi.” You’re giggling softly, and you can tell Yoongi’s seams are already breaking. Pink gums and straight teeth are seconds away from peaking through. You wink cheekily at him. “You’re just as sweet as your personality is.”

“Stop, that’s so embarrassing!” he exclaims, hiding behind his hands. He’s already smiling. “I’m not as sweet as you think! I’m a mean guy!”

“Yoongi, you literally just bought me hot chocolate with marshmallows because you remembered what I like. I don’t think there’s a mean bone in your body,” you retort, rolling your eyes at the prominent pout on his face.

“Not true! I stole an extra coupon booklet when I was at the grocery store the other day.”

“Ooooh, I do love a bad boy,” you say, but the two of you are already laughing hysterically. “Seriously, thanks. I really needed this today.”

“Dang, bad morning already?” he winces, having noticed the purple moons under your eyes when he had approached you. He didn’t want to mention it without you bringing it up first, but he had been worried about you since last Friday when you had left the workplace with a slammed door.

“Try bad weekend. Mr. Lee has been pushing my buttons for months now, but I seriously didn’t think he thought it was a challenge. He’s been giving me shitty filing jobs to complete like I’m some overworked intern!”

Yoongi cocks his head, confused. “Aren’t you, like… In the advertising department? Why would he make you file things?”

“Exactly!” You’re all but roaring now, but Yoongi can’t help smirking at the stray dollop of whipped cream that had somehow found its way on your nose. He pulls his sleeve over his wrist, swiping it away with the fabric as nonchalantly as possible (which is to say, he’s as red as a spanked ass when he does it.)

You don’t even notice his actions, still deep in the abyss of your rage. “And also! My shitty phone ran out of storage space the other day so I’ve had to delete all the songs on my library and I can’t find any good playlists on Spotify to help me dissociate on the train!”

“Wow, that’s a mood,” Yoongi says, chuckling. He clears his throat, an idea popping into his head. He turns bashful all of a sudden, gaze diverting upwards as he musters the courage to say, “I-I mean, I think I can help you with that last problem, if you want…”

You stop huffing and puffing long enough to appear intrigued. “Oh? Are you gonna send me a playlist?”

Yoongi splutters. “I mean! If you want it, I do have some songs that I like listening to.”

Yoongi squeaks when you smile at that, radiant and all-encompassing. He wonders how he’s not dead right now.

“Oh god, that would be great actually! Text me the link, would you?” you say, already making grabby hands for his phone. “Here, lemme put my phone number in your phone.”

Yoongi almost drops his phone as he takes it out of his pocket, staring in awe as he watches you type in your number into his phone. He has to keep himself from outright howling when he sees you place a sunflower emoji beside your name. How fitting, he thinks to himself.

When you return the phone back to him, he immediately texts you the link to his playlist. You have to keep yourself from screaming to the heavens when you see the very Yoongi-esque title, “Songs for the Sleepless,” complete with the grainy-noir-film-type playlist art to complete the look. It was just so… personal, so Yoongi, and it’s making you clench organs that you didn’t know were clenchable.

You whistle at the sheer number of songs on the playlist, with the first song being—“Didn’t peg you as a Lana Del Rey fan,” you pipe up, scrolling through his playlist with acute interest. “Kendrick Lamar and Epik High, I understand. But Lana?”

To his credit, the playlist did seem like it had a narrative of sorts, despite the eclectic range of artists and genres. You only recognize maybe ten of the songs from his five hundred song playlist, and you’re very curious to see what type of songs he connects to.

“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” he shrugs his shoulders, though a little bit embarrassed. “Lana Del Rey could sing my obituary and I’d jump out of my grave in an instant.”

“Bit morbid but okay,” you laugh, finger ready to close your music player app when you catch sight of a song with an artist you didn’t expect to see. You reach over to tug on his sleeve, your sly smile already causing Yoongi to break out in hives. “Hey… I didn’t know you shared your name with a singer, unless, of course…”

Yoongi doesn’t even let you finish your sentence when he yelps in surprise, snatching your phone out of your grip as his eyes bug out of his sockets. His ears redden, words tumbling out of his mouth like a waterfall as he tries to explain himself despite your raucous giggling.

“I––You weren’t supposed to––I forgot about! That was––I was just––Ugh,” he groans despairingly, smacking himself in the forehead with your phone. You’re still giggling madly, enjoying the spectacle before you as Yoongi’s ears are practically shooting out steam.

“You’re so cute.” It slips out of your mouth with such ease that you almost don’t notice saying it at all; you’re still smiling dreamily at Yoongi as he stares at you in shock, mouth still agape from his earlier rambling. You gasp loudly when your brain cells finally catch up, but by then it’s already too late. Now, the two of you were a matching pair, with your fire engine red ears standing at attention.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just said that,” you mutter into your hands. You wish the earth would swallow you whole right now.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you just said that,” Yoongi wails beside you, but you don’t notice the small satisfied smile he’s sporting on his reddened face. “Y-You can’t just say things and not expect me to…”

You look up, wondering why he’d suddenly trailed off at the end. “Expect you to what?”

Yoongi, once again, defies the laws of the universe by somehow turning even redder than humanly possible. “N-nothing. Ignore me. Let’s just admit we’re both embarrassing and carry on, can we?”

“Sure,” you agree, nodding enthusiastically. “But, does that mean I can listen to your songs, Mister Min ‘I’m-a-superstar-singer-in-my-spare-time’ Yoongi?”

“I’m not a superstar! I just record songs in my free time, that’s all,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Says the guy who apparently raps as a hobby! Seriously, I can tell I’m gonna love it already.”

His gaze is turned upwards, cheeks puffed up in embarrassment. He looks like he wants to say something else, however, and you wait for him as he tries to gather the courage to say what else is on his mind. “S-say, I was wondering… Since I’m already here and all, do you want to maybe go out wi—”

“Yo! Hyung!”

A deep voice from across the office floor snaps the two of you out of your little bubble in an instant. It doesn’t take a genius to tell who it is, not when there’s only one person in the entire company who would dare wear a sushi-print tie to work at one of the most lucrative companies in the country.

Kim Namjoon hobbles over to your little cubicle space in all his sushi-print tie glory, knocking over a coworker’s potted plant in the process. Between you and Yoongi, you had been more surprised by Namjoon’s sudden exclamation, mostly because you’d never been particularly close with the eccentric man. Yoongi probably can’t say the same since he had briefly mentioned that he and Namjoon go way back, though you’re starting to have some doubts about that due to the dirty glare Yoongi was currently pointing at the sentient noodles-for-legs.

Namjoon waves cheerily at you before cutting to the chase as he envelops Yoongi in a not-too-gentle hug. “Hyung! I’ve been looking for you. You weren’t at your desk this morning so I was wondering where you’d wandered off, but of course I’d find you here at Y/N’s de––”

Yoongi promptly stomps on Namjoon’s feet, causing the younger to yelp out in pain. “Namjoon. I told you I’d talk to you later.” Yoongi smiles sweetly, but you can see the aura of danger radiating off of him in waves. “Emphasis on later.”

Namjoon pouts petulantly, but he doesn’t look all that offended. “I was just gonna remind you to ask Y/N if she wanted to join us for lunch la––OUCH! WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET!”

Yoongi appears unbothered, not even looking back at Namjoon’s shouts of betrayal. All the while, he still has his gaze trained on you, never wavering for one second.

“Please ignore my colleague. He can a bit… Unnecessarily loud,” Yoongi says, accompanied by Namjoon’s splutters of indignation.

“Umm?? I’m right here?? Your actual best friend?? Geez!” Namjoon huffs, looking at the both of you incredulously. You just shrug your shoulders, completely dumbfounded by the last five minutes of human interaction.

“As Namjoon was saying before we were so rudely interrupted… I was going to ask if you wanted to have lunch with me? Namjoon can join too, but only if he behaves,” Yoongi jokes, smirking at Namjoon’s ireful glares.

You giggle quietly at the unlikely pair, amused beyond belief at this new side of Yoongi that you hadn’t been aware of. So this is how he is with his friends… Cocky Yoongi is definitely someone you wouldn’t mind talking to occasionally, you admit.

“Sure, I’d love to. Just let me finish all this filing crap for Mr. Lee, then I’ll head over to your desk at around 12?” If you work at a breakneck pace, then you could probably finish sooner if you didn’t let anything else distract you. “Oh! And I should probably return your umbrella before you leave. I keep forgetting to give it back to you.”

“No worries,” Yoongi says. “You should keep the umbrella. I’ve got a spare anyway.”

Namjoon’s head whips toward Yoongi at that, staring at him skeptically. “Dude. Ain’t that your favorite Kumamon umbrella though? Didn’t you almost murder me that one time I forgot it at the McDonald’s last mo––WILL YOU STOP STEPPING ON MY FEET! I’M GONNA GET FLATFOOT SYNDROME!”

“Not my problem,” Yoongi replies, pinching Namjoon’s nose for good measure. He turns to you, waving goodbye. “See you in a few?”

You stretch your back, psyching yourself up to get back to work. “Right. I’ll text you when I’m done okay? See you at 12-ish!”

The boys make their leave, bickering all the while. You catch wind of a bit of their conversation as they turn the corner, their voices echoing down the hall.

“Hey, I noticed that you were looking Y/N in the eye when you were speaking. Why don’t you ever look me in the eye when we talk!”

Yoongi snorts, flipping him off. “It’s because you’re not as nice to look at. Simple as that.”

In your seat, you smile secretly to yourself, butterflies erupting in your chest. Filled with newly found fervor, you chip away at the pile of work on your desk until it starts to vanish from view.

Before you know it, you’re off to see Yoongi once more.

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his vulnerability quietly. It would go something like this:

x x x x x

There is a boy you know who likes to show his love quietly. It would go something like this:

Your day begins with a phone call: a warning. Your boss tells you to come into work as soon as possible, not a note of enthusiasm or friendliness in his tone. He ends the call just as abruptly as it had come, the silence following soon after deafening your ears. Your heart races marathons in your chest, and your brain goes to the worst place it can go.

Your hands are sweating gallons upon gallons as you shrug your coat on, fumbling with your keys as you struggle to place them in your pocket. For a brief moment, you think about calling Yoongi for moral support, but think better of it. You don’t want to bother anyone, especially not him.

You, the lone ranger, walk out of your apartment and into the murky urban outdoors, the first pitter-patters of rain making their descent the moment your foot meets the pavement. You don’t have quite the energy to go back inside to grab your umbrella, not when you’re unsure if you’ll be courageous enough to leave your bedroom once more if you did.

You’d always been a coward, a soft-hearted fool. Content with shouldering the consequences of your actions without another word: a sufferer in silence. For the past few weeks, you thought you might have changed. You’d been smiling a lot more, laughing a lot more. Your cheeks were often more red than any other color these days, and it was all thanks to a boy you know.

He was shy, but brave. Quiet, but talkative. Mysterious, but vulnerable.

He made you realize that there was no need to settle for one side of a coin, not when you could have both. The longer you stuck around him, the stronger your desire was to become… more.

You wanted to be open; you wanted to be known. You wanted to be able to ask for what you want, and never feel the crushing sense of guilt that usually came afterwards. You wanted to be unapologetic, wanted to keep your hands open, waiting for good things to come your way. To never cower in the face of a gift being handed to you. You wanted to have all that life has to offer––

(Him. Him. Him.)

But there is something pitiful about being unable to keep your own promises. The embarrassment of returning to the state where you once were, of turning meek at the first sign of adversity. The dreams of a happier life drifts away from you like mist under the morning sun, and the pressing weight of the world once again makes its home on your shoulders.

And so, you do not cry when your boss tells you to pack up your things within the hour.

You do not cry when you cut your finger on the corner of your desk that had never been replaced during your five-year stay at this company.

You do not cry when one of your potted plants smash to the floor when you try to carry too many things at once.

You do not cry when co-workers you’d only barely spoken to come over to your desk with showers of condolences, as if you’d already died.

You do not cry when Kim Namjoon walks over to you, quietly bending down to help you carry your boxes down to the lobby.

And when all is said and done, you most especially do not cry when Min Yoongi runs to you with his lungs burning in his chest, glasses still fogged up from the morning cold outside. His hair is in disarray and his shirt is on backwards, as if he’d jumped out of bed the moment he knew something was wrong. When he skids to a halt right in front of you, the pain etched on his face is as plain as day.

Wordlessly, he takes the last box out of your hands, placing his car keys on top when he can’t hold onto them both. His eyes flit towards your clenched fists for a second, but looks away the moment you notice. Instead, he walks out to the elevator, and you follow soon after.

You do not cry when Min Yoongi helps you load his car with your things. You do not cry when he takes a first-aid kit out of his glovebox and puts a band-aid on your finger. You do not cry when he offers to pass by the local home depot to pick up a new plant when he notices yours is gone. You do not cry when he doesn’t treat you like your life has ended.

(But you feel it. Pricking along your eyes like a dam about to break. He is doing this to you. He’s making you feel again, and it fucking hurts.)

And so, he drives you home.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Yoongi starts after a while, tapping a rhythm away on his steering wheel as he waits for the morning rush traffic to subside. He glances at you from the corner of his eye, worried when you don’t respond. You keep your head pressed against the cool car window, staring blankly at the gray skyline.

“I… I hope you don’t mind if I play you something. Just… Just listen to it, okay?”

You don’t see him, but you hear his fingers switch their tapping to his phone as he unlocks it, searching for the song he wants you to hear. It takes a moment or two for him to find it, soft curses tumbling from his lips as he goes through his Google Drive for the unfinished draft that he hadn’t meant to show you until it was complete, but well––

You were always an exception to him, weren’t you?

The first notes come creeping up from behind you, and it reminds you of the way Yoongi would speak to you. All soft whispers and gummy smiles, like he’s restraining himself. Slowly but surely, the music grows louder, more confident with its sound. You can picture Yoongi standing upright, hand outstretched towards you as he asks you to follow him.

The song is unfamiliar, but there’s something about it that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention. You’re trying to go through your memories, sorting through the hundreds of songs that Yoongi has made you listen to but none of them seem to ring a bell. You’re still trying to figure out if you’d heard this before when the lyrics finally start.

“Lost in the sea of my regrets, you became my polaris.”

Yoongi’s voice comes from the radio speaker, jolting you from your seat. Your spine straightens, and you stare bullets at Yoongi’s phone as the song continues to play. When you look towards him, Yoongi’s face is a statue; the only thing giving away the fact that he was with you at all was the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“The shadows, which had been my haven, no longer feel as good as they once did. You, my light, have changed all of that.”

You gasp, and Yoongi’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. It seems like the two of you stop moving at that moment, neither of you daring to breathe. Even the outside traffic sounds muted compared to the sound of your hearts hammering inside your chests.

“I’ve long since forgotten to pray, but I will remember for you. I only dream of happiness for you, my morning light, my northern star. And I’d give it all up for you.”

Yoongi notices your tears fall before you even do; he’s quick to fluster, scrambling through his car side door for a tissue to hand to you, but he stops the moment he feels your hand fist the elbow of his sleeve. He turns to look at you, all blotchy and tear-stained, but beautiful all the same. And even through your tears, you smile just as radiantly as when he had first seen you.

“Thank you,” you mouth, fingers trembling as you fight to keep more tears from falling, but nothing can stop a dam from breaking. Not when you’re sitting beside the hurricane who broke it in the first place; it was the boy with feelings that never did quite fit in his body the way other people’s did.

Luckily, they fit right in with you.

When the song comes to the end, you’re sniffling up a storm, but you still haven’t let go of him. When you’re only a few minutes away from your apartment, Yoongi parks a little bit far off from your doorstep, so you have to walk the rest of the way home. But you’re still unwilling to let go, not yet.

Gently, Yoongi pries your hand away from his sleeve and you’re about to protest, but the words die on your lips the moment they form when Yoongi rubs his hands along the side of his slacks before placing them in yours. His hands are still cold, but comforting all the same.

“Let me walk you home?” he whispers.

You nod. Of course, you want to say. But he knows what you mean, anyway.

When he goes to unpack your things from the trunk, you shake your head, stopping him from moving any further. “I… I don’t feel like sorting through those things right now. Is it fine with you if I just… Go home for now? Please?” Your brain feels like lead in your skull after all the bottled up tears had finally escaped from years of constant pressure, and you don’t think you’re quite ready to go through all those emotions again. You feel deflated, but better. He always makes you feel better.

Yoongi closes the trunk, locking his car before stretching out his hands for you. You stare at the proffered hand for a moment.

“Oh, right.” Yoongi goes to rub his hands to warm them, but you stop him once more in his ministrations. He looks at you, confused, as you grab his hand from him. You rub circles into his palm, staring at the ground in embarrassment.

“You’re always warming your hands for me… So this time, I’ll warm them for you, okay?”

Yoongi doesn’t say anything in response to that. Instead, he tugs you along towards the sidewalk and keeps you close to him. As he walks with you, you notice the way he leans slightly to the left, like he’s drawn to you––like he can’t help be more than an inch further from you.

You keep glancing back down at your linked hands; he’s shaking, but then again, that could also be you.

You arrive at the gate of your apartment quicker than you would have liked. Neither of you move to separate; when you look back at Yoongi, you see that his eyes are trained on you. He doesn’t even flinch away like he used to. His lips are pursed, like he wants to say something but he’s still too afraid to.

So you say it for him instead.

“Do you have… somewhere to be?” Unlike you, he still has a job. He still has commitments. He still has a life outside of you. You’re hit with fear, once again, at the sudden change in your circumstances.

You might never get to see him again. Is this where your paths cross, never to intersect again? Your stomach drops at the thought, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“No, I don’t. I could…” Yoongi trails off, glancing at your apartment with soft hesitance. “If… If you want me to…”

Yes. Please. I’d love it. I love yo–– ”Yes. Stay with me?” you mumble.

“Always,” he promises.

The pair of you trudge up to your apartment, passing by the prying eyes of housewives with your heads bowed in embarrassment. They don’t miss your pinkies linked behind your backs, nor the subtle blushes on the apples of your cheeks. Thankfully, they don’t comment when Yoongi enters your apartment after you, but they do giggle when his coat gets caught on the door handle in his rush.

When the two of you are finally alone, the air isn’t as awkward as you had feared. You work like two cogs in a machine; he readies your TV and scrolls through your Netflix for a movie, while you go to your kitchen and have a small mental breakdown (while also microwaving some popcorn). Soon, the two of you are snuggled into your small couch, elbows barely brushing against each other.

You’re only half paying attention to the generic action movie that Yoongi had put on; you were still deep in your thoughts. You’re picking away at your hangnail, worrying your lip as you try to enjoy what might be the last time you’ll ever get to hang out with Yoongi again. You’re so deep in your musings that you don’t immediately feel when Yoongi wraps his arms around your shoulder, nestling your head into his chest.

“W… What?” You crane your head and stare at Yoongi in shock, but he’s already returned his attention back to the movie. His cheeks are burning.

You’re still stiff with tension despite his comforting caresses against your hair, so he changes tactics and brings your hand up to his.

You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but he keeps bringing your hand up until it gently caresses his face. Just as you’re about to ask him what he’s doing, he curls your fingers until only your pointer is left unfurled, and casually uses it to poke himself in the cheek.

He leaves it there for a second or two, and when you finally turn to face him, he’s smiling so sweetly at you that you almost feel compelled to cry again. His eyes and nose are all scrunched up, rose petal gums on full display. Your finger is still pressed gently into his soft cheeks.

“You said you liked to dream about poking my bread cheeks. Well, here’s your chance,” he says, like it’s nothing at all. As if what he has done was as simple as breathing.

Yoongi’s smile brightens when he feels your form relax against him, giggling softly when you go to pinch his cheek for good measure.

“Bread cheekies,” you say, like you’re in a trance.

Yoongi nods. “Bread cheekies,” he repeats. “And it’s all yours.”

There’s a promise in there, you know. Somehow, he had sensed your worry and had thought of the perfect way to calm you. Like always, he never has to say it. He’s never needed words, anyway.

The two of you stay like that for hours. The sun sets as surely as the moon rises, and Min Yoongi stays with you through the night. When your mind drifts off and only your steady breathing fills the room, Min Yoongi brushes a small kiss against your forehead.

“Dream of happiness, my love,” he whispers into your skin, just when he thinks you’re asleep, “I’ll dream of you, too.”

It’s a promise that he keeps.

There is a boy you know who never learned how to say he loves you, but it never mattered all that much to you––not when he’s willing to show you over and over again. It goes something like this––

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2jaeh · 4 years ago

Text

Bubble ♡︎ | Na Jaemin

Genre : Fluff humor

You’re subscribed to Jaemins bubble, excited just like every other fan to recieve his message for today until his new messages don’t seem like the others.....

-—————————————————————————

“What’s taking so long ?” You stared blankly at the LYSN* app while stretching your legs onto your leather couch.

You switched over to the Twitter app and scrolled through your timeline, briefly reading through whatever was the latest topic on nctzen Twitter. One tweet caught your attention which made you chuckle out loud

Nananotifs: “I’m pretty sure Haechan finally threw Jaemin’s phone out of the dorm window bc.......”

All Nanadoongies gathered on Twitter to complain about the absence of Jaemin especially since he was the only one who hadnt reposted Chenle’s beloved pup Daegal.

You sighed and switched back to the LYSN app and noticed you were able to send one more message to Jaemin before the app blocks you off until he sends a new message.

Y/n: nana I miss you please say something

JAEMIN: y/n did you eat today ? I’ve missed you!

Your eyes widened at the immediate message you received from your ult. Was is coincidental ? Ofcourse it was, they don’t get notifications from fan messages do they ?

You immediately switched over to Twitter already seeing the bubble update account sharing Jaemins new message along with the entire timeline screaming over his activity.

~boominana: “how dare he act so normal I’m gonna cry !!!!”

~jaeminjenos: “post a selfie Jaemin don’t be shy”

~dreamies023: “he’s probably busy guys let him post when he wants to”

The last account was right. Jaemin was probably so busy. It was nice that he still found time out of his schedule to message nctzens and that’s what you loved most about him.

Y/n: Jaemin you’re stressing everyone out on Twitter lol let us know you’re doing ok we love you !

JAEMIN: am I ? :/

Was it a delayed message ? You shook your head and decided it was probably just another glitch on the app.

Y/n: yes stop ghosting us !

JAEMIN: ghosting ? ㅋㅋㅋ so dramatic

You froze. There was absolutely no way that from the tons of messages he would be recieving right now that yours would be the one he read and responded to.

The interaction made your heart race and quickly switch over to Twitter, it was probably chaos right now wondering what Jaemins messages could mean.

Silence.

Everyone on the timeline moved on from Jaemins first message and there were no updates on the messages you had just received from him.

PING!

JAEMIN: y/n ~ are you not going to answer me ? How am I ghosting you :(

This could not be real. You felt a lump in your throat as you checked over your other bubble subscriptions which all seemed fine except for his. You had no idea how to feel or what to do.

Y/N: this is weird. Send me a selfie so I know you’re actually replying to me and not a bot -_-

About 15 minutes went by and you stared at the open chat. He had read your message but there was no reply.

“Humh it was a bot after all” you huffed, about to close the app when your phone pinged and you saw Jaemins name pop up.

A voice note.

“Hey y/n, I hope I’m saying your name correctly hehe So long story short I think the chat glitched and your name and profile pic added itself to my own bubble. Weird right ? Mark Hyung told me I should send a voice note because it will make you believe me a bit more and .....well we would know if you posted on Twitter which CANNOT happen hahaha you understand right ?”

What was happening right now.

You pinched yourself to make sure you didn’t accidentally fall asleep on the couch and start having a very eerie realistic dream.

JAEMIN: I know you’re shocked rn but I really enjoy reading your replies haha it was the best part of my day and well I couldn’t help myself today. I wanted to tease you lol

Y/N: wait so how long has this “glitch” happened for ?

JAEMIN: hmmm....about a month now I think...after you renewed your account I think hehe

Y/N: what ??? Omg I’m so embarrassed......

JAEMIN: there’s nothing to be embarrassed about trust me. I’ve read everything czennies have sent me haha I find it amusing.

You exhaled deeply and scrolled through some of the messages you have sent him during this month and thankfully none of them were cringeworthy.

Y/N: so...now what? Should I speak to app support and fix this....unsubscribe or something....

JAEMIN: LOL youre really funny. Imagine finding out you can speak to someone from your fav idol group and you want to call tech support ...LOL so funny Mark Hyung is laughing

You felt your cheeks heat up at the image of Na Jaemin and Mark Lee laughing at your messages.

JAEMIN: please don’t be embarrassed y/n ! I only did this bc well I have your profile now and you’re really cute.

This was NOT happening.

Y/N: Uh......

JAEMIN: what do you have a boyfriend ? ....

Y/N: no I don’t I’m just....it’s nothing never mind

JAEMIN: LOL so cute! So do you have Kakao ?

Y/N: you want my number ? Why ? .....

JAEMIN: to talk to you obviously! What if they fix the glitch and I’ll never be able to talk to you again..

Jaemin wanted to talk to you. He was trusting you wholeheartedly to add him on his private account. Did he have an idea of the kind of person you were ? How could he possibly risk his career to a nobody ?

Y/N: I do have kakao it’s YN_0023.... Jaemin I won’t say anything but are you sure this is okay ?

JAEMIN: yeah I’ll video call you and we can talk about it ...adding you now. Clear this chat after you get my text!

VIDEOCHAT ?

Is he absolutely insane ? Maybe the voice note was fabricated. Maybe this was some weirdo trying to prey on innocent fangirls. Maybe -

Nana00: heyyyyyyyyy :)

Y/n: hi Uhm is this ...Jaemin ...

Nana00: yup (inserts a pic with your username on a sheet of paper)

Y/n: holy shiiiiit

By now you were already pacing across your entire apartment trying to come to terms with what was going on in your life right now. It became a force of habit to constantly check Twitter and make sure by chance somebody mentioned a glitch of some sort or SM announcing that the app is under construction or SOMETHING.

‘This couldn’t be real’ you thought.

Nana00: lol you’re so funny so are you free to video call ?

Y/n: Uhm......are you sure that’s a good idea ?

Nana00: yeah I mean firstly I would like to know you’re real too lol and also I want to know if I can trust you with this information.....it’ll be quick I promise

Y/n: well....okay give me 10minutes please

Nana00: lol sure :)

After scrambling to your bathroom to make yourself a little presentable as if you just won a video call event for your ult, you finally set on a laidback look so it doesn’t look too obvious that you put a little effort in.

You decided to prop your phone on the mini tripod on your desk so the lighting from your bedroom window in front of you bounced off your skin perfectly.

Y/n: okay I’m ready. I’m a little shy so.....sorry if I can’t talk much...

Nana00: you don’t sound shy when you talk about me on bubble hehe ;)

You buried your face in your hands and groaned. The embarrassment was still eating at you and Jaemin was not letting you live those messages down.

Ring Ring Ring......

You saw your phone light up and Jaemins kakao profile picture fill your screen.

With a shaky finger you press the recieve button and watch as the pixelated video start to clear up, presenting a very smiley Na Jaemin.

“Hi there” he said in his high voice and a bright smile on his face. He seemed to be sitting at his desk as well, hair still wet from either a rainy day or a shower.

“Uhm hi” you replied shyly and waved awkwardly.

“So this is the face behind the bubble profile huh”

“I guess so” you replied. It seemed as though you were calm and collected but on the inside you were screaming. Screaming that you were conversing with one of your favourite people right now.

“Good! Sorry to ask this again but did you clear the chat on bubble ? We have to be careful with that” he said in a concerned voice.

“Yeah I did after you sent the pic I finally realized it was definitely you so I went ahead and did it” you quickly said, kinda embarrassed by how fast your words came out.

Jaemin chuckled.

“You still doubted me after the voice note?”

“Just a little”

“You’re so adorable it’s ridiculous you know that ?” He gleamed and neared the screen, his deep brown eyes focusing on yours “ where are you from y/n?”

“Well I live in a lot of places but my hometown is _______. I learnt most of my korean while studying here in Osaka weird enough” you shrugged.

You moved to Japan for your first year of university since it was where you sort of grew up as a kid and took up extra korean classes once settled in the city.

“Osaka ?? Wow I love Japan I can’t wait to go back! Well now I kinda have an excuse to go” he winked sending your heart into a frenzy.

You giggled shyly “is this the fan service everybody talks about ?

“Fan service is a job....this is different I’m sure you know that y/n haha”

“All of this because of my profile picture ?”

“Well” Jaemin bit down on his lip as his eyebrows turned into a frown

“I obviously saw your pic and thought you were very cute but a big part of it was your messages and how you would always message me when I most needed it.”

“My messages are very random” you chuckled.

“Still made me smile throughout my day and that means a lot” he said and ran his fingers through his hair “so it’s kinda selfish of me to say, but id like for you to update me...personally”

“Na Jaemin are you asking me to be your own personal bubble account ?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Yeah pretty much” he shrugged “I’ll repay the subscription when I see you Osaka.”

#Jaemin au #Nct fanfic #nct dream #na jaemin #NCT fluff #NCT scenario #Jaemin fluff #Dreamies #nct dream imagines #kpop scenarios #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #nct #nct x reader

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heytherejulietx · 3 years ago

Text

Gold - Bughead

@riverdalepromptathon week 10

Masterlists

Read on AO3 here!

Requests are OPEN!

Prompts;

Daydreaming.

Gold.

Notes - ten weeks in and this is my first time taking part in the promptathon… oops. i’m glad i started though because this fic was so fun to write and i love it so much. though i swear i’ve got like three fics that end the same way this does. oh well, i still like it. enjoy. :)

Warnings - N/A.

Word count - 1.7k.

Riverdale tag list - @bucky-j-barnes @adorably-sweet-hufflepuff @kpopgirlbtssvt @booksmusicteaandanimals @cheryllclayton @jesso80 @dietbreadloaf @thebluetint @lilireinhartsimp @camiczzzz @bitchy-broken @crazyninjalight @literarygetaway21 @bc-jh22

To join my tag list fill out this form

A hand in hers. Lips pressed to her hair. A cold golden band slipping over her ring finger. The thoughts swirled around in her barely-coherent mind as Betty attempted to wake up. Her eyelids fluttered underneath the gentle sunlight that peeked through the curtains to lay across her face and she had to turn her head to the left to get the light off of her eyelids. With a quiet yawn and a stretch of her arms she blinked her eyes open with a gentle smile when she saw her snoozing boyfriend buried underneath their light copper - almost gold - bedsheets beside her.

Betty propped herself up against the headboard and sighed, rubbing her eyes with the heels of her palms for a moment. The memory (or was it her imagination?) of the golden ring made her look down at her hand, though no ring could be seen. She closed her eyes and let her head lean back against the headboard behind her. Had she been dreaming that Jughead had proposed to her?

Just the thought of him proposing made her smile warmly to herself. Betty and Jughead had been together for a good few years again after their high school sweethearts phase had ended for seven years. They had their own house, they had a cat, they both had stable jobs and things to do; far from old worries of serial killers and cults and aliens. They were finally living normal lives. Or, as normal as it could get for them.

The icing on the cake would be to get married to Jughead. It would be the perfect addition to their lives. Of course, eventually Betty also wanted children, though she knew how Jughead felt about that topic. After everything with his dad, he needed to be one-hundred percent ready before he could even think of going through with that next step in their lives, and Betty completely understood that. They had their whole lives ahead of them for that.

Jughead shifted in his sleep beside her and she opened her eyes to look at him with a soft smile. He looked so peaceful when he was asleep. There was a time in their lives when the only peace either of them could get was when they were asleep in each other’s arms, and Betty was glad that they didn’t have to live like that anymore. No worry of serial killers or solving murders or devastating breakups. Just them. And their cat, of course.

Almost as if Toffee knew that Betty was thinking of her, a meow could be heard beside the bed before the fluffy creature jumped up onto the bed with Betty, meowing as she climbed into her lap.

“Good morning,” Betty mumbled with a soft smile as she scratched the back of Toffee’s neck, leaning her head down enough to allow the fluffy white cat to nudge the end of her nose with it’s own. With a fond smile towards the creature she ran her hand down her back and stopped at her tail, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “Want some breakfast?”

At the mention of food Toffee meowed again and Betty smiled, waiting for Toffee to jump off of the bed so she could get up too. Shuffling into her slippers she slipped on one of Jughead’s shirts before she followed a meowing Toffee out of the bedroom, letting Jughead sleep for a little longer.

Toffee zigzagged between Betty’s legs on the way to the kitchen, meowing loudly on the way. Managing not to trip over her cat by the time she got there Betty reached up towards one of the cabinets in the kitchen and pulled out a tin of wet food, scrunching her nose up in disgust at the smell as she emptied it into Toffee’s bowl before she sat it back on the floor.

With her cat now eating happily Betty moved around the kitchen, gathering what she would need to make scrambled eggs for breakfast. Though as she moved around the room she still couldn’t help but think back to her dream. Of course they had spoken about marriage before; when they had gotten back together again they had both agreed that they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, and that certainly included marriage, right?

If they got married then she would no longer be Miss. Cooper - she would be Mrs. Jones. The thought alone had her smiling widely at the frying pan in front of her as she sat it on the stove, an egg in her other hand. It would officially make her a part of his family, although she already knew how welcome she was into the Jones household. Betty was well aware that Jughead welcomed her into his household with open arms from day one when he was living at the trailer, though over time - through staying at the trailer some nights and then living in the same house as them - she grew close with his family too. Jellybean seemed like a little sister to her, even if she took some warming up to, and FP was like a father to her - more so than her own. After everything that had happened with Hal (she refused to refer to him as dad) FP treated her just as his own. And when she saw the man for the first time in seven years he greeted her like she was his daughter. A smile and open arms to hug her immediately. A kiss to her head and a mumble of “I missed you so much, Betty.” He liked her for who she was, not just for Jughead.

If they got married would FP walk her down the aisle? Would he dance with her at the reception? Would he gladly accept her as his daughter-in-law?

Getting along with Jughead’s family would be important, of course, but simply just having Jughead as her husband would be amazing in itself. They already acted like a married couple, but she knew life with him as her husband would be perfect. She could imagine small things like him referring to her as “Mrs. Jones”, calling her his wife and not just his girlfriend, always wearing matching wedding rings so they have something to connect to even when they aren’t together. Holidays together in a secluded cabin, slow dancing at parties, anniversary celebrations; she wanted it all.

She wanted to be married to him.

“You know,” a pair of arms snaked around her waist and held her into an embrace, bringing her out of her daydream. “If you want to cook the eggs, you have to crack them into the pan and not just stare at them.” His voice, though groggy with sleep, held a teasing undertone to it, and she smiled fondly to herself as she shook her head.

“I was just daydreaming. Got away from myself.” Betty mumbled, closing her eyes with a soft sigh as she felt kisses being placed to the back of her neck and wherever her shoulder was exposed.

“Was it about me?” Jughead teased again, and moved his hands to her hips to spin her to face him with a smile.

“It was actually.” Betty giggled, slipping her arms around his waist to tuck herself into him properly, shutting her eyes again as he dropped a kiss to her temple.

“Oh yeah? I’m flattered,” Jughead held her tightly against himself, his hand running across her back underneath the shirt she was wearing. “Can I ask why?”

“I had a nice dream about you.” Betty said softly, smiling to herself as she held onto him a bit tighter, tilting her head upwards slightly to leave a gentle kiss to the bottom of his jawline.

“A nice dream or a nice dream?” He teased, and chuckled as she gently nudged his side.

“A nice dream. It was very sweet. I don’t remember much about it but I know it made me really happy.” Betty said softly.

She looked up at Jughead as he hummed and leaned back slightly, and she leaned into his hand as he lifted it to rest against her cheek. It was moments like that when she knew that being married to Jughead would be perfect. They didn’t need to go on dates all the time or do fancy things to be happy with each other. Just having each other’s company was enough for them. All they needed was each other.

His hand cupped her cheek as he leaned in to kiss her and Betty smiled against his lips as her hands gently gripped onto his shoulders. They stood there for a few minutes, enjoying gentle touches and soft whispers between each other which only they would get, before they both felt fur brushing against their legs and an impatient meow following.

Betty pulled away with a pout as she looked down at Toffee who was looking directly at Jughead. “She likes you more than me.” She complained.

Jughead chuckled as he leaned down to lift Toffee into his arms, letting the cat nudge his face as she started purring. “I am very likeable.” He joked.

Betty fondly rolled her eyes and turned away from him and back towards the stove to turn it on, actually starting to fix their breakfast that time without getting distracted. “Of all people you don’t have to tell me that.” She pointed out, and heard him laugh behind her as he pressed a kiss to her head.

“Good point.”

As she focused on the eggs, she didn’t see Jughead move across the kitchen to where he had left his work bag on the table from the day before. She missed his hand reaching into one of the side pockets from which he pulled a velvet ring box. She didn’t see the sun reflecting on the golden band as he opened the box to check it was still inside. As Betty stirred the eggs Jughead slipped the ring box into his jacket which was hanging on one of the coat hooks by the door way; the jacket he’d be wearing out later that day when he took her out for lunch at their favourite restaurant. Where he would hopefully quite literally make a dream come true.

#amber’s writing #riverdalepromptathon #riverdalepromptathonweek10 #fyeahbughead #riverdale #bughead #bughead fluff #bughead one shot #bughead fanfiction #bughead fic #bettycooper #betty cooper #betty cooper x jughead jones #jughead #jugheadjones #jughead jones #jughead jones x betty cooper

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sukifans · 4 years ago

Note

zuko + 7. ( a kiss on the eye lid ) pls? thank you <33

campcampie said: hey! i’d like to request a kinda modern day zuko x reader where they’re going on their first date and they’ve been friends for like ever using prompt 24 from the 50 types of kisses? if you don’t have time that’s completely fine

LAST FIRST DATE // zuko

WC: 2.4k

PROMPT: “a kiss on the eyelid” & “deep kisses where they have their hands tangled in each other’s hair to pull them closer”

WARNINGS: say goodbye to ur teeth

A/N: hi loves! i hope you don’t mind, but i combined these two requests bc i thought they’d just be super cute together :^) i made it extra long since it’s two requests in one. thank you for sending them in!! we love tooth-rotting fluff here

⇦ 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

It was the only time you had ever felt like this before a first date. You didn’t look him up to check if he had an arrest record, or turn on location sharing with your friends, or repeat conversation starters like a mantra in your head. You didn’t schedule an “emergency phone call” as a graceful way to bow out. You didn’t do any of these things, because you knew you didn’t need to. Your pulse didn’t race in your neck out of nerves, but excitement.

You tried on all your clothes in every possible combination, all of which he’d seen you in before. You fixed your hair one way, then changed your mind, then put it back again. It all either felt like too little for such a blind leap or too much for such a natural step. How was it possible that everything and yet nothing might change today?

Okay, so maybe you were a little nervous. You tried not to focus on how wobbly you felt when you went to answer the knock on your door, but it all melted away at the sight of your best friend standing on your porch with a half-wilted bouquet of your favorite flowers. When he caught sight of you his lips turned up into a sheepish grin, his cheeks already going pink.

“Hi,” you said, much quieter than you’d intended.

“Hey,” he exhaled. “You look... beautiful.”

Now your face was starting to feel hot. “Zuko, you’ve seen me wear this before.”

“So?” He crossed the threshold into your home when you stepped aside to let him in. “You always looking amazing. You could make a burlap sack look designer.”

“Oh, hush.” You accepted the fleeting peck he placed on your lips. It was something you’d done a million times before in greeting or goodbye—yeah, you’d been more than friends without being “more than friends” for some time now—but there was a new electric anticipation to the familiar gesture and it made your heart palpitate. Trying to calm yourself, you fixed your eyes on the flowers he held in an almost white-knuckle grip. “Are those for me?”

He looked down at his hand as if surprised he was carrying a bouquet. “Oh, yeah.” You took it when he thrusted it out at you. “I, uh, saw them at the store and they reminded me of you. They’re your favorite, you know.”

“I know,” you giggled, moving to rustle through your cabinets to find something to put them in. Redness crept up his neck from under the collar of his shirt and he grimaced.

“Right, of course you do.” He looked at you apologetically. “I’m sorry they’re not as pretty anymore. I... got a little excited when I saw them and bought them on the spot a few days ago. I probably should’ve waited.”

“I think they’re beautiful,” you said, filling a jar with water and setting them in place. “Thank you; you didn’t have to.”

“I know. And I knew you’d say that,” he chuckled. He took your hand when you stood in front of him once again. “I just want to make sure I do this right. You deserve to be... wooed, or whatever.”

“Well, consider me wooed.” You squeezed his hand. “I’m happy no matter what, as long as I’m with you.”

The soft, sweet look he fixed you with made you want to melt into a puddle. God, you were head over heels for this man. It was unbelievable how long it took for you to realize and actually do something about it. Everything felt so obvious now—the years of feelings you’d swallowed back like bitter medicine despite how he’d clearly been doing the exact same thing; the ache of yearning in your chest and the burning jealousy that rose like bile in your throat every time you saw him with someone else.

But none of that mattered anymore, because you were here now, with him, sitting in his passenger seat with the windows down and trying to goad him into singing along to the stereo with you. You held his free hand that wasn’t on the wheel in yours, forcing his arm to dance along with you. He watched your antics out of the corner of his eye with a smitten half-smile. You were satisfied when he tapped his fingers against the wheel along with the rhythm pumping from the speakers and bobbed his head. You swore you could even hear him humming when you leaned in close enough while swaying in your seat.

The date had been your idea, because of course it was—you knew him better than just about anybody else, especially himself and maybe even his Uncle Iroh. Your sharp perceptiveness and ability to read him like a book had unnerved him at first, early in your friendship as awkward, angsty teens. He didn’t like the concept of being known and analyzed; uncomfortable with the idea of existing in other people’s minds in a form beyond his control. That always led to expectations, and expectations led to disappointment.

Learning how to be okay with his own vulnerability and personhood was one of many things you had helped him with over the years of your relationship. Because of you—for you—he was a better person, a better friend, a better man. It was something he wished he knew how to thank you for. Even if he could find the words (and the nerve), it would never be enough. He had settled long ago on just trying to show you, every day and in every way he could.

As the two of you traipsed across the park grass and you searched for the perfect spot, he couldn’t help but marvel at the fact his hands seemed to be designed to hold yours. The way your fingers fitted perfectly between his, the warmth of every contact point between your palms; it felt as natural as the tides or the winds or anything else that had always been and always would be. He’d experienced the feeling of your hand in his hundreds if not thousands of times before, but it all felt so much more... poignant, somehow, in this time and place.

“You’ve been really quiet,” you observed as you laid out the blanket once you’d deemed the area suitable. He sat on it next to you, dropping down the backpack of snacks he’d been carrying. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”

“No, definitely not,” he quickly reassured you, wanting the worried crease between your eyebrows to smooth away. “I’m fine. I’ve just been thinking.”

You nodded, not pressing him. That was just one more of a million things he adored about you: you never forced him to tell you things he didn’t want to say. This, however, was something he wanted to share with you.

“I’ve been thinking about how important you are to me, and how lucky I am to have you in my life. And how... easy this feels.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Easy?”

“Yeah. In a really, really good way. I feel like this is exactly where I’m supposed to be. Even if this doesn’t really work out the way we want it to, you still mean everything to me. I can’t even imagine who or where I would be if I hadn’t met you.” He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. Taking in a deep breath, he continued. “I think about it a lot, actually, but I guess I’m just... thinking about it more, now.”

Your lips curved up into that gentle smile that made his heart skip a few beats and you squeezed his hand. “I know exactly what you mean, Zuko. I feel the same way and I couldn’t’ve said it better myself.” The tips of his ears burned when you leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath, rubbing the back of his neck, and you giggled at his sudden shyness. He cleared his throat and looked over at the raised stage a little ways away.

“Um, I think the show is starting.” You followed his gaze up to where stagehands were setting up props for the play. The crowd of people hushed as the lights illuminated the stage and orchestral music flowed from the speakers. His stomach flipped when you shifted closer to him and turned your head so your lips brushed his earlobe.

“I’ve heard this troupe is better than the Ember Island Players, but if they’re not I packed some tomatoes to throw,” you whispered before burying your face in his shoulder to stifle your laugh at his scoff in response.

“If they’re worse than the Ember Island Players then consider this our first and last date. I don’t think any relationship could recover from that,” he mumbled and you rolled your eyes with a grin.

“Harsh, but understandable,” you sighed. You rooted around in the bag and pulled out the bottle of cheap wine you’d slipped in. You passed it to him after taking a swig, a devilish smirk on your face that made goosebumps rise on his skin. He took a sip just as the first actors entered the stage.

They were much better than the Ember Island Players, though that was a pretty low bar to set. As much of a theater snob he could be, he had to admit they did Love Amongst the Dragons justice (and even brought some tears to his eyes that he hastily blinked away in hopes you wouldn’t notice). The sun had set long before you both rose with the rest of the crowd to give the troupe a standing ovation. He could feel his heart swell with adoration as you clapped and whistled enthusiastically, the lights on the crowd making the tear tracks on your face glisten.

“That was amazing!” You turned to him breathlessly, eyes sparkling. The wine you’d shared was making him feel bold (and a little wobbly) and the way you looked at him was making the blood rush in his ears. Without thinking he slid his palms under your jaw and leaned in to capture your lips in a sweet kiss. After your initial moment of surprise you closed your eyes and twisted your hands into the front of his shirt, pulling him against your body as you kissed him back insistently. A jolt shot up your spine when his tongue prodded at your mouth and you parted your lips, humming as you tilted your head to deepen the kiss.

“Zuko,” you breathed against his lips, pulling away just far enough to gasp for air.

“(Y/N).” Your name rolled off his tongue like a reverent prayer. His hands slipped down to your waist where he dug his fingertips into your skin, as if afraid you’d dematerialize if he didn’t hold you in place.

“Are we spinning? It feels like we’re spinning.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I think we had too much wine.”

“It’s not the wine.” You opened your eyes to see his were still squeezed shut. He was afraid that he’d open them and wake up and it would all have been a dream.

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

“No—“ you cupped his face and tilted it so you could press a kiss to his forehead, and another to each cheek, and then one brushed over the rough skin on his scarred eyelid that made his breathe catch in his throat “—you always make me feel like that.”

He opened his eyes now, cheeks flushed a blazing red. He drank in the sight of your wide eyes and kiss-swollen lips and felt his heart leap into his throat. You felt captivated by his hungry gaze; he was staring at you like a man starved. “Sorry,” he mumbled breathlessly.

You weren’t expecting that. “Sorry? For what?”

“Making you feel... spinny.”

You giggled and pulled him in for another kiss, threading your fingers of one hand through his shaggy black locks while the thumb of your other skimmed across his scar. He raised his own to tangle in your hair, tugging you impossibly closer. Your foot caught on the blanket and you stumbled, bringing you both crashing to the ground as your faces smacked together. Surely you two were a sight to see for the people filtering out of the park now that the play was over.

“Fuck,” you groaned, rubbing the bridge of your nose where his chin had slammed against it. He grunted and propped himself up so he wasn’t laying on top of you anymore.

“That was definitely the wine,” he said and you nodded in agreement. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” You dropped your head back into the grass and scrunched up your face. “Your chin hurt my nose.”

He leaned over you with a grin. “Well, your nose hurt my chin.”

“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t even consider how your bony chin could be injured after smashing into my soft cartilage.” You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore how his huff of laughter made your stomach feel fluttery.

“Just try to keep it in mind next time. This time, though—“ he gently kissed between your eyes, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip “—I’ll kiss it better for you.” He reveled in how you visibly flustered, opening your mouth and then closing it again quickly.

“Dork,” you muttered and he laughed again. “The hell do you mean, ‘next time?’”

“Well, y’know, if we keep falling for each other, then—“ You cut him off with an exasperated groan.

“If I didn’t know better I’d think Sokka gave you the idea to purposefully fall, just to drop that stupid line.”

“I mean, he did offer to help since I always seem to trip over my words around you.” You made a disgusted face in response to his cheeky smile and shoved him off you. He rolled onto his back next to you as you sat up.

“I should’ve seen that coming,” you grumbled.

“Yeah,” he sighed, obviously pleased with himself. You looked down at him when he tugged on your sleeve. “Hey, Sokka’s tips didn’t ruin my chance at a second date, right?”

You took his hand in yours and laced your fingers together. “As if I’d let Sokka’s stupid ass fuck up the years of pining I’ve put in. You’ll have to try harder than that to get rid of me, Zuko.”

You could feel his smile against your skin when he brought your knuckles to his lips. “That’s what I like to hear.”

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula @wooscottoncandyhair @chewymoustachio

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @sunflowerr-mami @emeraldpotato @september-ctd @duh-dobrik

#zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko x y/n #zuko fic #zuko fluff #zuko #mine #requests #avatar the last airbender #atla x reader #atla

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maysbanks · 5 years ago

Text

are you bored yet. (jj maybank)

hey everyone ! basically this is my first time writing for jj, or anyone from obx in general. this is a side acc from my main acc that i made purely bc this fic idea came to me when watching obx and after listening to the wallows on repeat for weeks. idk i just thought the song was kinda fitting for jj, and im a sucker for soft ! jj with a friends to lovers arc, so here this is. it's quite a long one btw, the words just kept flowing so i apologise in advance. also i have a few more fic ideas based off some songs so if you like this and are interested in more pls let me know ! im probably gonna be writing a lot more for this boy bc i adore him. anyways i hope u enjoy !

warnings: features swearing, mention of sex, underage drinking, drug use and violence.

summary: based lightly off the song 'are you bored yet?' by the wallows ft clairo, reader and jj delve deeper into their relationship, taking the steps further into becoming something more than best friends. however worries and doubts begin to plague their minds, as they fear their relationship of becoming just a memory.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

"What are you doing later?" You looked towards Kie who'd directed the question towards you, her eyes squinting from the sun that was grinning down at your forms from where you were both seated on the sand.

"Dunno," you shrugged your shoulders. "Probably hanging out with J or something."

Kiara scoffed, a mocking look taking over the features of her face as her head turned towards yours, your eyebrows raising at the sly smirk on her lips. "What?" You questioned, narrowing your eyes when all she did was laugh. You shifted in your place, body moving from laying on your back to on your stomach, figuring it was about time to switch positions for your tan anyway. "Seriously Kie, what're you laughing about?"

She shifted along with you, only laying on her right side so she could face you head on, her hand propping her head up from the ground. She was still grinning. "JJ," she said simply. You raised your eyebrows at her once more, seemingly not understanding what she was trying to get at. "What's going on with you two?" Kie pushed on when you didn't respond, her own eyebrows inching further up her forehead.

In the distance you could hear the boys' screams, their commotion coming from the water you had passed on entering. You could hear JJ taunting John B from where you lay, Pope laughing along, and the splashes that you could only assume were also coming from them. You never spared them a glance, though from the corner of your eye could see their figures and indeed the loud splashes of water were coming from them, and you were certain JJ was holding John B underneath the water.

"Nothing's going on," you said in response to Kie's question, rolling your eyes playfully at her exclaim of 'oh c'mon!'. "What? It's the truth. Nothing is going on, not really."

Kie furrowed her brows. "What do you mean by 'not really'? Did something happen between you two?" She prodded.

You shrugged, because in all honesty you couldn't say much of anything about your relationship with JJ. You were just as unsure about it all as Kie and more than likely the rest of the gang were (because if Kie had picked up on it than surely Pope and John B had too, and you were kind of freaking about it.) and had no idea what to say in her line of questioning. Of course you wanted to talk about it, you and the Pogues never kept secrets from each other - but was it really a secret when they technically knew about it anyway, and was it really a secret when you and JJ hadn't even spoken about keeping it a secret too? Your mind raced, and you figured it was easier to just shrug it off for the time being. Kie would no doubt ask again, and you hoped you had the answers by the next time she (or someone else) would.

"He's my best friend," you'd decided on saying. From the corner of your eye, you could see the guys approaching. "We've been close since we were like, ten. We've always been the same."

Except now the two of you held hands under the table and kissed in the safety of your rooms, among other things. That part of your relationship was fairly new though, and so you decided against saying anything until you could work out exactly what was going on between you and JJ - because you had no clue, and weren't even sure that JJ knew himself. It just sort of happened, the line being crossed over from friends to lovers in the blink of an eye. One minute you'd never dare to give in to the temptation of JJ Maybank's heavenly sinful lips, and the next the pair of you were sharing a bed almost every night.

Nothing much had changed though, in regards to your friendship. JJ and you had always been close, always intimate in your touches. Always beside each other, rarely without the other. You were an unstoppable duo from the minute you met. Just somehow, along the line, over the years, your friendship had turned into more. Each touch became longer, each glance would linger, and something had shifted. It was inevitable, you supposed. Nobody was ever really that close with someone without feelings getting involved at some point.

The guys were a lot closer now, and Kie spared them a glance before looking back towards you. "Friends don't look at each other the way you two do." Was all she said before the sun that was earlier shining down on you was blocked by the trio of tall guys that smiled at the pair of you. Kie sat up, smiling as Pope took a seat beside her on her towel. "Have fun out there?"

"Oh, tons," came the voice that belonged to the person you were talking about not a minute ago. JJ smirked down at you, blonde hair dripping wet on his forehead and golden tanned chest on full show. You admired the view behind your sunglasses and sent a grin in his direction when he seemed to notice. "You checking me out there, babe?"

You laughed as he did a little shimmy, rolling your eyes as you looked at him over the rim of your glasses. "What would you do if I was, Maybank?" You played along, smirking when you heard John B let out a gag from somewhere beside you. JJ smiled back, and squatting down in front of your form he'd grabbed hold of your feet, laughing when you squealed. Tugging so that you were laying on your back rather than your front, his sea blue eyes gazed down your body, unknowingly leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The feeling you shared with JJ was unlike any other, nothing or nobody could come close to topping it. It was unexplainable, the feeling of absolute longing for him to just be there forever. You couldn't ever imagine a life without him in it, and that thought both scared and excited you.

JJ stared down at you, tongue peeking from his mouth to wet his pink lips as he looked. You felt hot all over and you knew it wasn't because of the sun. "Things only you could imagine sweetheart," he taunted from above you, knowing fine well that what you could imagine he'd probably already done to you. You smirked back, feeling a thrill shoot through you because the pair of you knew this and the remaining three of your group had no idea, or so you believed. This new relationship, this unspoken thing between the two of you was simply yours, and somewhere in the future you feared you'd both come to regret it, whatever it was, but in the moments of the present you knew neither of you could find it in yourselves to actually care.

And so you both smiled at each other like the world around you didn't exist, and for a couple of seconds you could pretend it didn't, JJ moving so he was seated behind you with your body seated between his legs and your back against his chest. Sat there, surrounded by your friends though almost oblivious to their presence as JJ's hands rested on your skin, his breath on your neck. You leaned into him, and smiled when he placed a discreet kiss to your shoulder.

Locking eyes with him, you grinned. The burst of happiness and content when he grinned back was almost unbearable, and in that moment you knew you never wanted whatever it was that you two shared to end.

It was a few days later when JJ showed up at your window, his face bloody and bruised, his form weak as he pulled himself into your bedroom. You didn't need to ask twice about who'd caused the damage, your body and mind going into autopilot as you hurried from your bed and grabbed hold of him, JJ grunting as he fell into you, his hand clutching desperately at his side.

"Shit, JJ," you'd cursed as you helped him land on your bed, hands instantly grabbing at his face and assessing the damage that had been left by his father. There was cuts along his brow line, his eye was bruised and already swollen shut, his bottom lip bust open and oozing blood. Your thumbs swiped along his cheeks, being careful of the injuries, and you felt tears pricking at your eyes at the sight of him. You blinked them away as quickly as you could, he didn't need to see you being so upset in that moment. And besides, you had bigger issues like getting him cleaned up like you had done too many times before. "Stay here, okay. I'm gonna go get the first aid kit."

JJ only grunted, and you pressed a kiss to his forehead before leaving the room to get the kit, your mind reeling. It was no secret about JJ's father and his years of abuse towards his own son, and you'd seen him beaten so badly so many times before, but it never got any easier. Each time it happened JJ would wound up at your house, and each time you would clean him up, making sure his wounds were tended to and making him as comfortable as possible as he slept next to you, most nights with his head resting on your chest as you soothed him to sleep with whispers of reassurance that you were there and that you loved him. He would fall asleep with tears staining his cheeks and you would cry yourself to sleep afterwards too, wishing that could just take away all his pain, wishing that you could do more, wishing that JJ had a better life than what he was given, because there was no-one that deserved it more.

You sniffed and forced your tears away, trying to focus on the task at hand. It didn't take long to locate the first aid kit and within a minute you were back in your bedroom, where JJ lay, staring up at your ceiling with his chest moving up and down in a motion that proved he was trying to hold his own tears in. Your heart broke at the sight, and you bit down on your wobbling lip as you moved towards him. His eyes met yours when you were close enough, stood in front of him on your bed. You smiled softly.

"Hey, honey," you soothed as he slowly sat up, grimacing at the obvious pain from his side as he did so. Despite his pain, he smirked back at you.

"Hi, baby."

Stepping closer, effectively between his legs, you smiled as his hands wound around and grabbed at your legs, almost as if he was grounding himself, focusing all his attention onto you. You took a moment to take him in as you pressed the wet rag you'd also grabbed on his face, beginning to clean the cut on his eyebrow. It wasn't too deep, thank god, you thought. You feared for the day where one cut might be too deep and one blow too strong, and the thought of JJ, strong and hot headed and impulsive and passionate, might not being able to drag himself out of the house of hell and getting to anyone for help, to you, to John B, to Pope or Kie, scared the shit out of you to put it simply. JJ was so strong, but there was only so much he could take, and you dreaded the day when that would come. You could only hope it never, and in the meantime do your best to prevent it. You let out a shaky breath as you continued to clean the blood from his face, gently dabbing at his torn lip as he hissed. "I'm sorry hon," you murmured, feeling your gut twist at the sight of him in pain.

"I'm okay," he breathed out, only it was shaky and you both knew it to be a lie. You said nothing though, not wanting to start an argument that night. You'd had countless in situations like these, where you'd tell him he needs to get away from his dad and he'd tell you its not that easy and that nothing fucking is on this island, and you'd try and tell him you understand that but you hate seeing him like that, beaten to a pulp, sometimes barely even able to move, and that you were scared to lose him. He'd tell you that you were too good for him, you deserved better, you deserved more, and you'd cry and tell him to shut up, that he was your best friend and all you ever needed and you'd always be there for him, and he would shake his head and deny it all with tears streaming down both your faces until you collapsed into each other and fell asleep with your limbs intertwined whatever mood you'd gone to sleep in. There was something about that night that told you not to argue, not to push him, just clean him up and hold him and let him know that he wasn't alone in this world. His eyes met yours once more. "I'm okay." He repeated, as if you hadn't heard him the first time.

All you could do was nod, and wiping the last bit of blood from his face, you quickly went over the cuts with disinfectant, JJ's grip tightening on the backs of your legs as you continued to tend to every last bit of him. Finishing on his face, you placed a kiss on each and every cut, bruise or scrape that was etched into his skin. He let out a shaky breath, one hand moving up and landing on your back, rubbing up and down as his forehead rested on your shoulder. Running your own hands through his blonde locks, you pressed your nose to the top of his head as you held him close to you. It wasn't long before you felt the tears soak through the material of your shirt (which was technically JJ's shirt, but that didn't matter much.) and his body started to shake against your own, chest heaving and hands shaking.

"I hate him," you heard him mutter. You closed your eyes, wrapping your arms around him tighter, one hand clutching the back of his neck as the other rubbed soothing patterns onto his back. JJ shook against you, hands clutching onto the sides of your shirt as his lips brushed against the side of your neck as he let out a sob. "I just - I fucking hate him! Why does he do this, why does he -? Why, why, why?"

He was muttering the word over and over again, all sense of himself lost as he sobbed into your neck. In that moment, you felt so useless, so powerless, and you knew that JJ did too. You wished you could take away all his pain, make him see that he was so loved, that you loved him entirely and surely, but all you could do in that moment was hold him tight and screw your eyes shut as you cried along with him.

"He doesn't deserve you, J," you whispered into his hair. "He doesn't deserve you one bit. You're the best son, okay. You're the best friend, the best goddamned person on this island, on this planet! You're so loved, you hear me? You're so loved, babyboy. We all love you, I love you okay. I love you more than anything."

You'd said the words a million times before, but somehow in that moment, wrapped up in each other, JJ sobbing into your chest and you holding him like a person would a child, his ear resting against your heart where he could hear every little beat, his own matching the rhythm soon after - in that moment, _you both knew it meant more. That the friendly shared 'love you's' from so many times before were different to the ones now, and yet still neither of you spoke about it. You focused on JJ, giving him the comfort he so desperately needed. And JJ focused on you, focused on your heartbeat and the sound of your breathing and the soothing words you were whispering to him, and you had no clue as to what he was thinking; that he loved you, so fucking much. JJ Maybank didn't know what to do with that, to love someone so completely and honestly like he loved you, beyond the point of friendship and into the unknown territory of _in-love _absolutely _terrified him. But he knew it to be true, he was in love with you.

And as you forced him to take his shirt off so you could inspect the bruises surrounding his stomach and chest, laying a gentle kiss onto each and every one of them as he started at you with pure adoration in his eyes, he thought about your relationship - fears of you getting bored of him, wanting more than the island life and more than him, fears of you leaving him for something or someone simply more. Realising that he was no good like he'd always said, always suspected. But then you gazed at him with a certain glint in your eyes that he knew was reflecting in his own, and you were pressing your lips to his in a soft caress that dimmed all thoughts from his head and the question of 'are you bored yet?' fell flat on his lips as you ate them, chewed it up and spat it straight back out.

That conversation could come later, he supposed.

JJ's jaw clenched as he took in the sight of you, skin glowing in the late night sun that was slowly fading in the moons advance. The kegger had begun only an hour or so before, and yet the beach was filled with people already - varying of Pogues, Tourons and Kooks.

Among them all was you, red cup placed in your hands as you laughed at something the guy in front of you was saying, a small smile on the boys lips as he watched you. JJ felt something twist in his gut, suddenly feeling nauseous as he was stood a bit away from you, taking in the sight with malice in his blue eyes. He didn't know the guy that much was for sure, which could only mean one thing; he was definitely a Touron. That also probably meant that he was one of the few people at the party that didn't know JJ or anything of his reputation for being a bit too hot headed. JJ couldn't decide if that was a good or bad thing.

"Dude," John B slapped a hand on his shoulder, effectively snapping his trance at the pair across the beach. JJ turned towards his best friend, a smirk on John B's lips as their eyes met. "You're gonna poke holes into that guys head the way you're glaring at him man."

JJ rolled his eyes, his head once again moving to look back towards your figure. You didn't look mad at the attention the guy was giving you, and that sent a trail of fury in JJ's veins. "Who is that guy, man?" He asked instead of replying to John B's playful taunts. John B seemed to take note of that and simply shook his head. Fucking clueless, he thought.

"Dunno," John B replied as he took a swig of the beer in his hands. "Some Touron, probably." He glanced at his best friends face and noticed the glare darken in JJ's eyes. He suddenly shifted, blocking his view of you and the guy, ignoring JJ's grunt of displeasure at his move. "Don't start anything, J. Alright?"

JJ scoffed. "Me?" He chuckled darkly. "Nah man, you know I'd never start anything," he patted John B's chest twice. "I'm not the fighting type." JJ knew that John B could make out the sarcastic drawl to his words, and looking away from the brunette's eyes JJ was glancing back at you. His features shifted dramatically as he saw the guy take a step closer to your body, and despite the somewhat uncomfortable smile on your face you never seemed to object to the move. JJ felt the anger in his veins grow. "Fuck this!"

John B stopped him before he could take another step, shoving his chest so that he stumbled backwards. "Don't even think about it," JB warned. From afar, Pope seemed to take notice of the two and began to walk towards the seething blonde and his brunette best friend. "Pope, man tell him," John B practically pleaded as the most level headed of the group arrived at their side. It didn't take long for Pope to realise what the source of JJ's anger was, spotting you and the guy, completely oblivious to what was going on. "What are you planning on doing, huh?"

"He's all over her," JJ simply said - as if that was enough of an excuse for his anger. Pope and John B shared a glance. "I'm just gonna go over there and see if she's alright, alright?"

"Why do you care if he's all over her?" Pope raised his eyebrows. "You're not her boyfriend."

That faltered JJ's stance, and for a split second he looked away from you - still laughing, both hands gripping the cup in your hands, bikini clad top on full show for unwelcome eyes to wander. He clenched his jaw tighter, teeth clashing in his mouth, as he thought about Pope's words. Was it technically true; wasn't he your boyfriend? He didn't know - neither of you did. You hadn't spoken about anything, the changes in your relationship coming almost naturally so that neither of you cared to at first.

First, there was the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule. Second, there was something so deliciously thrilling about keeping your relationship from everyone else - no room for drama or prying eyes, or so he thought. But the unknown was beginning to scare him, and all he wanted was answers.

It was as if putting a label on what you both were would potentially put an end to everything, all the kissing, cuddling, secret touches, lingering looks, whispered endearments. The pair of you were too young for this shit, JJ thought. Thinking so hard about what you are or weren't. And god forbid you'd both come to regret it all; JJ couldn't let that happen. He wouldn't.

"I'm not gonna do anything," he said simply, and shoved his way past his friends before they could do anything else. He approached you, your eyes immediately catching his and a large grin overtaking the features of your face as he came closer. The guy seemed to notice your shift in attention and he turned too, eyes widening a bit at the sight of the blonde stood in front of him. JJ tried to smile naturally, his too sharp teeth secretly grinding together. "Hey," he chirped as if he was talking to an old friend. "How're you doing, man? I'm JJ."

You hid a laugh behind your hand, having no clue as to what JJ was trying to achieve but finding the obviously fake enthusiasm rather hilarious in that moment. Over his shoulder, you noticed John B and Pope watching with careful eyes, and everything seemed to click in your mind. _JJ was obviously planning on starting something. _You decided to get yourself and your somewhat boyfriend slash best friend out of the situation before anything could happen, the poor Touron didn't have a clue that you were kinda taken, to a fist throwing first ask questions later, tall blonde named JJ Maybank after all.

"It was nice talking to you, dude," you told the guy, his face dropping at the word dude. God, had he seriously wasted all that time flirting with you? You grabbed JJ's hand, only for him to tug it out of yours and place it around your shoulders, blue eyes sending daggers to the nervous boy on front of you. "We're gonna go now, I think."

And with that, you led the way away from him, not missing the way JJ's eyes swooped over the guy in an almost warning manner before smirking at him. Your hand reached up and fingers intertwined with those of JJ's that were sat rather comfortably near your breast. JJ's fingers squeezed yours in response, his arm tugging you closer before he leaned down and pressed a hard kiss to the top of your head.

Once you were a good distance away from the party and its occupants on the beach, you turned in his arm, hand letting go of his to wrap both your arms around his waist. He kept the same arm around your shoulder and placed his other on your bare back between the high waist line of your shorts and the knot of your bikini, long fingers spacing out and rubbing soothing patterns into the skin.

You sighed as you looked at him. "What was that about?" You questioned, a small smile tugging on your lips regardless of the seriousness in your question as you demanded answers.

"That guy was all over you," JJ grunted, his eyes leaving yours to glare at the space where you stood a minute before talking to the said guy. "He was practically drooling all over you. I saved you, y'know. You should be thanking me, babe."

You laughed, and rolling your eyes you reached up to touch his face, thumb smoothing over the still darkened skin under his eye from the confrontation of his dad earlier that week. Leaning up on your toes, aware that nobody could see the action from the distance you and JJ were stood from the kegger, you pressed a kiss to the bruised skin, JJ's eyes closing at the feel of your lips against his skin, a soft exhale leaving his chest.

"Were you jealous, baby?" You teased gently, chuckling at his scoff in response to your accusation. "Relax, J. You don't have to be. I've only got eyes for you."

That seemed to catch his attention. JJ pulled away from you a bit, blue eyes suddenly serious and pink lips forming a tight line. For a second you worried you'd said something wrong, suddenly afraid that he would pull back completely and distance himself from you like you feared one day he would - it was only a matter of time before he realised what you had was a mistake, you worried. That he'd get bored of you and realise there was so many other people he could have. The thought alone made you sick, and you forced the intruding thoughts to the back of your head as JJ's eyes trailed over your face.

"What's wrong?" You couldn't take it anymore. The silence was deafening, even with the music and chatter of the teenagers behind you lingering in the night air. JJ seemed to get hold of his bearings at that moment, shaking his head and leaving a hand from your body to run through his hair. You watched him all the while, lip between your teeth. "J, what's wrong baby?"

JJ wished he had an answer, but he simply didn't. He had no idea what was wrong, no way of telling you the thoughts that were running through his mind. JJ had never been good with words, or emotions, or anything much like that at all. And so he just shook his head, sighing deeply as his hands caressed your face. You welcomed the touch, head leaning into his hold as he smiled down at you. You knew there was something he wanted to say to you; you had known him for so long, felt like all your life, and you could see right through his lies. However you never said a thing, once again. In that moment, it felt enough to just be by his side.

"Can we go?" He muttered quietly, despite no-one being around you. You smiled softly, eyes staring into each others there on the beach. "Just wanna go to sleep with you," he murmured that time, leaning down and kissing the side of your lips, not completely which had you grumbling quietly.

"Course, baby," you whispered as you looked at him, feeling nothing but adoration and love for the boy in front of you. "Let's go."

And so after kissing him under the moonlight, feet sunken in the damp sand as the sea splashed around you, the kegger still going strong in the distance, JJ took your hands and led the way back to the Chateau, where despite both your similar thoughts you crawled into bed in the spare bedroom and fell asleep together, your head resting on his chest with his cheek pressed against your head, arms wrapped around forms and legs intertwined.

It was hot, blistering heat panning down on your form as you lay on the hammock outside the Chateau, eyes closed with one arm resting over them in a fleeting attempt to block the sun out. Despite the unbearable temperature of the day, JJ lay in between your legs, perfectly muscular arms wrapped around your waist as his head rested on your stomach that was covered only by one of his infamous cut-off sleeve shirts, only a bikini underneath it keeping you modest.

One of your hands played with the hair on the back of his neck, twirling the strands in between your fingers and repeating the process over and over again, JJ letting out a low him as you did so.

It was just the two of you, the quiet and peacefulness welcome on the hot day as you cuddled as close as you could and as much as you wanted, nothing off limits away from the prying eyes of your best friends. Both Kie and Pope were working, John B having traded your company for that of Sarah Cameron's for the day, and so that only left the pair of you to do anything and everything you pleased. JJ had let out a joyous whoop when you'd discovered the fact, and you'd only managed to get out of bed half an hour before as he took full advantage of having the Chateau to yourselves for the morning. The original plan was to go surfing, but as soon as you'd stepped out of the house the both of you seemed to come to a silent mutual agreement that lounging around in the sun on the porch was a much more welcoming idea instead.

And so that's what the pair of you had done; there was barely a word uttered between you both as you lay there, JJ's skin slightly sticky and damp on your own due to the heat, but neither of you seemed to mind as you simply closed your eyes and basked in the quiet, content with doing nothing with your favourite person.

JJ's hands had moved so that he was caressing your side, your skin revealed with the low cut of his shirt as his thumb rubbed patterns into your skin. In its wake it left goosebumps, JJ's touch never failing to make you shiver even in all the years you had known him. He knew what effect he had on you too, he smirked as you shivered, his other hand squeezing the flesh of your hip.

You trailed your own hands down from his hair and onto the exposed flesh of his back as he lay shirtless, and you could feel the muscles under your palms clench as you let out a small giggle. JJ chuckled along, although he'd had no idea as to what it was you were laughing at in the first place. The sound of your laugh just made him happy, he supposed.

"What're you laughing at?" He murmured quietly, chin propping on your stomach and his eyes squinting up at you. He'd moved a hand down to your thigh, now kneading the flesh there as his other remained on your side and wrote unknown words into the skin there. You grinned down at him lazily, the sun and his charming aura making you feel high. Then again, you probably were high; the blunt you'd both shared a couple of minutes earlier taking its toll.

"Nothing," you hummed. "Just really, really fucking happy right now s'all."

JJ laughed, laying a kiss onto your stomach and loving the way you giggled at the action. He pressed more there, letting out dramatic sounds of various 'mwah's' as he trailed them up further until his lips were on the skin on your collarbone, continuing his assault onto your neck. JJ's tongue darted out, and your giggles had soon turned into breathy moans of approval as he sucked on the skin, his sharpened teeth sinking into the flesh not long after. You gripped the back of his neck, fingernails digging into his hairline as your sounds of pleasure rippled through the air surrounding you without a care in the world. In that moment you couldn't care less if anyone had caught you - all that mattered was JJ, all that ever mattered was JJ. He sucked gently on your flesh, adding to the bruises that already littered your chest, stomach, thighs, anywhere he could get his mouth earlier. You both knew questions would be asked from the others, in the high temperatures of the Outer Banks your skin was almost always revealed. But again, neither of you cared.

Not when JJ's mouth left your skin with a satisfying pop, his eyes taking in the sight of the freshly bruised flesh, a content smile on his lips. He leaned down and peppered a kiss to the lovebite, soothing his tongue over it afterwards. You let out a sigh, suddenly breathless under his heated gaze.

JJ shuffled his body up and closer, one leg in between yours as his right hand came up and held your face tenderly in his palm, the rough skin of his thumb swiping along your brow as he grinned cheekily down at you. "You're fucking beautiful y'know that?"

Your cheeks blazed, an almost embarrassed laugh leaving your mouth and you shook your head at his words. JJ looked offended suddenly, his brows furrowing as he nodded furiously. "Um, yes you are. Don't you dare say that you're not because you're, fucking, beautiful, okay," between each word he left lingering kisses to your lips with his own, and you knew it was probably the weed in his system that had spurred him to such a romantic confrontation, but you welcomed it regardless, giggling against his lips as one leg hooked around his waist. "Fucking god, you keep doing that and we won't be moving from this hammock all day."

"I'm not complaining about that," you replied and pressed your lips harder to his. JJ let out a groan, his body impulsively pushing down further onto yours, his hips directly on yours, chests pressed close together, his arm holding him up enough near your head so he didn't suffocate you completely, his other kneading the soft flesh of your bikini bottom clad ass. Your own hands caressed the skin of his abdomen, fingers sprawled and feeling his abs tense underneath the tips. You pulled away only slightly, taking in the sight of his flushed face, his eyes bright and yearning, flashing with something you couldn't quite place and his lips swollen and so very red. "Thank you, by the way." You whispered as you reached up and pushed the hair from his face. "You're pretty beautiful yourself, hon."

JJ seemed to understand what you were getting at then, his chest heaving with a chuckle as he shook his head at you. He leaned down and placed a kiss to your nose, returning his head to snuggle into your neck as you were once again wrapped around each other. "Thanks, I know," he joked (possibly) as his hands resumed their pattern of soothing shapes on your ribs. You hummed a random tune, the calming atmosphere returning around the pair of you on the porch. It was quiet for a few more minutes, your eyes closing involuntarily and almost falling asleep right then and there before JJ spoke up again. "You're my best friend, y'know."

The words were so quiet you almost missed them, but with the silence surrounding you, you'd heard them loud and clear. Your eyes opened and you glanced down at the boy laying atop of you, his face hidden in the skin of your neck.

"I would hope so," you laughed slightly, having no clue as to where JJ was planning on going with the fact. "You're my best friend too. I'd be lost without you and the guys."

"No," JJ shook his head. He shifted in his place, eyes connecting with yours as you sent him a questioning look, quirking your eyebrow. JJ sighed deeply, sucking his lower chapped lip into his mouth for a second before releasing it and allowing your finger to trace the outline of it. "You don't get it. You're like, my best friend. I know it sounds stupid and I'm probably a selfish fucker for saying it, but I'd put you above everyone else. You are above everyone else. And like, I don't know how else to explain it but you mean the fucking world to me. Without you, I'd be nothing. If I lost you, I'd fucking die."

His voice broke at the end, and it damn near broke your heart as you hushed him gently, arms circling around his head and holding it close to your chest. You kissed his forehead, hearing him sniffle before he raised his head and met your eyes, the sea blue crystallised by unshed tears.

"I feel like I've known you my whole life, and I just - I don't know what I'd do without you. I'm scared honestly, shit fucking feared of losing you, or you realising that I'm just a no good low life and you could do better, and honestly you could and I don't even know what the fuck you're doing with me," JJ chuckled darkly and you shook your head, feeling tears prick at your own eyes at his words. "And I don't even know if you want to be with me, or if what we're doing is some mistake you're gonna regret, but you're my best friend."

The earnest in his voice made your heart clench in your chest. You'd seen JJ cry numerous times, seen his facade break and his world around him to crash, seen the emotions pour out of him with so much force whether they be happy, sad, fucking hysterical or ecstatic; and you'd loved him through it all. The realisation of just how much you loved him, that went beyond friendship and into pure, earnest and genuine love for the boy in front of you, made your head swirl and butterflies in your stomach to clash heavily against your ribcage. Something warm spread throughout you, and you welcomed the feeling with open arms. You loved JJ Maybank, purely and honestly, with every fibre in your being.

"J," you murmured carefully, gripping his damp cheeks and forcing him to look at you. His face was unreadable, but you could see in his eyes what he was feeling in that moment. "You're fucking crazy, alright? Everything about you is so damned chaotic and I love every bit of it. I love every bit of you, so much. Do you know how scared I was that you would take all this back? Regret it all, leave me for someone better. I was scared shitless, because I cannot lose you. You're my best friend, and all I wanna do is spend all my time with you."

"I've never felt like this before," you whispered as JJ's gaze softened, hands gripping your hips and squeezing gently. You traced the worry in his brows, easing it away, traced the bottoms of his eyes, the slope of his nose and the outline of his lips. He breathed against your fingertips, the soft exhale making the hairs on your arms raise. "I love you, J. And if you think you're ever gonna get rid of me, you're terribly fucking mistaken."

JJ chuckled at that, blonde head falling on your chest as he breathed in and out, seemingly catching his breath at your confession. "Thank god," he breathed, cheeky gaze raising to catch yours as he grinned, suddenly surging forward and catching your lips with his own in a deep and passionate embrace that had you feeling dizzy at the pure feel of it all. "I was scared you were gonna tell me to fuck off, thought you were using me for my body for a minute there, babe."

You full on laughed, breaking away from his eager lips to let it out, your hands clutching his cheeks and your legs squashing his body atop yours from where they were wrapped around his waist. "You're such a fucker, J." He kissed along your jaw in response, biting down softly. "God, that weed must have been some new level shit."

"Nah," JJ shook his head and grinned. "You just drive me crazy, babygirl." His hands wandered from your ribs higher till his fingertips just slipped under the material of your bikini top. He pressed a further series of tender kisses to your chest, trailing them down and then back up to meet your lips once more. He gazed lovingly at you, looking golden in the sunlight. "I love you too, by the way. Just so y'know."

You grinned softly, catching his bottom lip with your teeth when he began to pull away, pulling a delicious groan from him. "I know," you echoed back to him, lips raising on their own accord to match JJ's almost shy smile at your declaration. "Hey, can we stay home today? Wanna watch the sunset with you later."

JJ snorted, laying one last lingering kiss to your lips before snuggling back into your neck, his eyelashes brushing against your delicate skin. "Whatever you want baby," he chuckled, breath warm. "Whatever you want."

Yours and JJ's (now established, thankfully) relationship only progessed from there; it was in the little things, spending every moment you could get with each other, always touching in some kind of way whether it to be hands curled around one another's, fingers dancing on skin, shoulders and arms brushing, legs squished beside each other. It was all new, and it was all so exciting, and any worries that the two of you may had shared earlier vanished and in their wake came new thoughts of the future, of which you'd spend together.

If the gang had noticed the change, they hadn't mentioned it. Though you already knew Kie suspected something a long time ago, and probably Pope and John B too, due to JJ's little episode at the kegger that time. But you and JJ rejoiced in the unknown, relationship growing stronger each day all the while. You weren't trying to hide it - god forbid, you'd both been waiting so long for it, but you hadn't officially announced you were boyfriend and girlfriend either. There wasn't anything to say, you thought. The relationship came naturally, years of close friendship gradually turning into something more for the pair of you, and you'd both agreed it would be way funnier for the gang to come to their own conclusions and confront you about it themselves. However long that would take them.

The Pogues had driven the HMS Pogue out to the marsh, planning on drinking, swimming and simply hanging out for the day. Sarah had joined you on that particular day, body pressed close to John B's as the group lounged around on the boat, you and JJ wrapped around each other as usual.

His muscular arm was wrapped around your shoulders as you sprawled out close together, your legs thrown over his as your body angled towards his own, head resting on his shoulder. Your hands held the one thrown over you, absentmindedly playing with his ring adorned fingers. His other gripped your knee laying over his, thumb rubbing gentle patterns into the tanned skin there.

Nobody had mentioned your closeness - it was nothing new, the pair of you had always been so close, always touching even before becoming a couple. But Sarah wasn't as close with you as the others, and though she was aware of how close you and JJ were, she wasn't as up to date with everything like everyone else. You'd had no idea that she always just assumed the pair of you were dating, until that day.

"So, you guys are like, a couple right?" She'd asked out of the blue, eyes directed onto you and JJ. Kie suddenly sat up straight, sunglasses raising to rest atop her head rather than on her nose, Pope beside her seemingly taking as much interest, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees as he listened.

From beside Sarah, John B laughed and shook his head. "Everyone thinks that," he grinned, looking to you and JJ who shared a knowing glance. Sarah looked at him in confusion. "They can't help it though, their sexual tension is through the roof."

Sarah looked even more confused. "Wait, so you guys aren't together?"

JJ cleared his throat, arm tightening around your shoulders. You squeezed his hand as you stared up at him, smiling softly at his uncertain gaze. Once he'd met your eyes, the uncertainty faded away and in its place came a cheeky kind of look, mischievous and so attractive that you had to hold yourself back from kissing him right then and there. You knew it was time to come clean; and you thought it would scare you, your relationship suddenly becoming so real, but the thought only made your insides twist and churn with nothing but excitement.

You looked back at Sarah, who's gaze was still on the pair of you, as well as everyone elses. You noted the almost giddy expression on Kie's face, the barely suppressed curiosity on Pope's, and the suddenly confused one of John B's. You almost laughed, but held it in to say, "Actually, yeah. JJ and I are together."

JJ squeezed you gently as the reactions from your friends began. Kie grinned smugly, Sarah smiled at the two of you, John B raised his eyebrows so high they almost got lost beneath his hat, and Pope slapped his knees before he lurched backwards with his arms raised above his head.

"I knew it, man," Pope shook his head, though a smile was growing on his handsome features. "I knew something's been up with you two."

You laughed as Kie scoffed, "You knew? I had it figured out from the very beginning, I could tell something had changed." She eyed you. "And I was specifically told that nothing was going on, you big fat liar!"

"I'm sorry," you chuckled. "In my defence, when you asked me about it then I actually didn't know if we were like, together together. We hadn't spoken about it yet."

JJ grinned and pulled your body closer, leaning down and pressing a sloppy kiss to the top of your head as your face was mushed into his bare chest. "Yeah, and who can blame her for wanting to keep my Sex God body all to herself?" He asked rhetorically, laughing when you slapped him on the chest with a playful eye roll.

"Wait, so are you a couple now?" John B questioned, puzzled. He looked between the pair of you, your arms wrapped around his waist, one of his still around your shoulder and hand resting between your boobs. The other brushed hair from your face, JJ's gaze loving and soft as he looked down at you before looking back towards his best friend. John B scrunched his face. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"We didn't tell anyone man," JJ shrugged carelessly. His fingers had began to play with your hair. "Figured it would be funnier for you guys to find out yourselves," he grinned. "So congratulations, you guys now know. Your reward is the knowledge that we fuck now!"

The gang groaned at his ludicrous words, and you slapped his chest with more force than you had before, just slightly as you scoffed and attempted to raise your head and move position to get a good look at him, but all JJ did was grab your hand and pull it upwards to his lips, kissing each of your knuckles instead.

You rolled as your eyes as you turned back to your friends. "We're sorry about not telling you," you said almost sheepishly. "We only really figured out what this was between us a few days ago, and by that time we just kinda forgot to mention it. This whole thing just kinda happened, we didn't know if it would last or become serious."

"And it has become serious now?" Pope voiced everyone's thoughts, glancing between the two of you. "Like, you're together as a couple. You love each other?"

You and JJ shared a look, the pair of you smiling softly as your hand raised and brushed the blonde strands of hair that fell over his brow, his own reaching up and holding the side of your jaw, his thumb swiping along your cheek lovingly. The others shared glances, unknown to you and JJ as you seemed to be lost inside your own little world for a moment.

When you came to again, you never turned from his eyes, watching the sea blue irises light up at your words; "Yeah, I love him, the fucker."

You heard a collective round of replies, but the feel of JJ's lips on yours for a second forced your attention on him and only him, your hands on his cheeks as you held him there for a full minute before pulling away, leaving a couple more little pecks on his lips. He whispered, "I love you." before he turned his attention to your friends, your smile so bright.

"I thought she'd get bored of me," he revealed unexpectedly. The Pogues (plus Sarah) all looked to him with various expressions of confusion, your own face matching theirs for a moment. JJ felt a smile tug on his lips as your hands massaged his scalp, nails scraping gently against the skin beneath. "But of course she couldn't, I mean I'm the fucking best am I not?"

The gang rolled their eyes as his normal cheeky expression returned, though they all smiled at the pair of you cuddled close together on the seats of the HMS Pogue, realising it was the happiest they'd ever seen the both of you. John B let out a sigh, shaking his head in disbelief. "Well, it's about time anyway."

And just like that, everything went back to normal. You knew they'd have more questions in the future, prepared to answer any and every one of them when they came. But your little group swayed their attention elsewhere sat out on their little boat, laughing and joking at the next topic of conversation, bright eyes and giddy smiles on every face as you drank, swam and sunbathed out there on the marsh. JJ was only looking at you though, skin golden and blue eyes shining. You loved him, you thought. How could he ever think you'd get bored of him, with his charm and quick witted words, sarcastic drawl and tendency to get into trouble, his obsession with weed and putting others before himself always, his beautiful mind and ridiculously good looks to match. He was yours, all yours. And you loved him. JJ grinned. "Are you bored yet?" He asked, just once, loving the sound of your giggle as you shook your head at his antics. "No? Good, because I'm never gonna get bored of you."

#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #outer banks x reader #outer banks x you #outer banks imagine #obx imagine #obx jj #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj one shot #john b routledge #pope heyward #kiara carrera #sarah cameron

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verfound · 4 years ago

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WIPWed: Festering Folder Edition: Legally Blonde AU

@mintaka14 asked about the Legally Blonde AU, which the Disco witnessed the birth of and was briefly mentioned in the notes for "Move Like Jagged". So. Yeah. This is the latest crack AU I've been working on. 😂

See, for my last project for those unit classes I had to take for work, I was talking about different reasons conflict can pop up in your kitchen and how to deal with them. And one of the ways to deal with conflict is by staying positive - you can't control what other people do/what happens, but you can control how you react to it. And that got "Positive" from the Legally Blonde musical in my head, which got me thinking who would be who in a LB AU, and...it all just ran away from me so hard. We have a Plunny Adoption channel in the Disco, and I dropped it there because I did not want another WIP, and the next thing I knew I was 1700 words into the Bend & Snap scene and no one else had adopted the plunny come on guys. 😂

So. Yeah. This is happening. I'm maybe a third of the way through the outline with about three scenes fully written out. 😂

The setup: Marinette is an aspiring fashion designer in her senior year at UCLA. Her life is all set up: she's going to graduate and marry her perfect boyfriend Adrien Agreste, who's on his way to becoming a lawyer and future president of the United States. Everything's perfect until he suddenly dumps her, claiming he needs someone more serious. He moves back out East to start at Harvard in the fall, where he's now dating childhood friend and fellow Snobby Harvard Girl Kagami Tsurugi. Marinette realizes that if she's gonna get her man back, she's got to be someone serious, too - someone lawerly! Someone who wears black when nobody's dead! So Marinette follows him out to Harvard, where she's...let's face it. The laughing stock of the school. But with a little determination (and the help of her super sweet TA Luka Couffaine, who's convinced she's not as Dumb as the others paint her) she's going to show everyone she belongs there - and win her Adrien back in the process!

So Marinette's Elle, Adrien is Warner, Kagami is Vivian, and Luka is Emmett. I'm putting Gabriel as Callahan, with the idea that part of the pressure on Adrien is that his father is this super successful lawyer & professor at Harvard who's expecting him to follow in his footsteps. (Also there's a line in the finale of the musical that says "Warner quit / Says he makes more modeling anyhow!", so while he's at UCLA I have Adrien modeling on the side and he totally goes back to it. 😂) Mylène is Paulette and Ivan is Kyle (the UPS guy). Rose and Alya are Marinette's Delta Nu sisters/best friends, and Juleka is still Luka's sister; Rose and Alya come out and the end to cheer Marinette on at the final trial, where Rose and Juleka meet.

Jagged is Brooke. He's being accused of murdering Bob Roth, his former label owner. He's innocent, but he refuses to give Gabriel his alibi (he was...getting...botox). He was Marinette's neighbor back in LA, and she designed his favorite leather jacket - so he freaks when Marinette walks in with his Estranged Son as part of his legal team. Luka and Jagged have a...tenuous relationship. Jagged is Luka's father, and Luka used to love music/want to be a rocker. He toured with Jagged for a year or two when he was younger as his opening act, but it really disillusioned Luka to the Music Scene. So he ended up pursuing law (thinking he could get into the legal side of things, and Anarka's always in and out of jail anyway so she'll need a good lawyer?), and finds out he's good at it & really enjoys it? It wasn't the career he thought he'd have, but he's happy.

I'm still kicking stuff around & writing the outline, but that's the bare-bones. 😂 And as much as I love the LB movie, the musical is one of my favorites. There's...guh ok I'm not gonna start gushing on how perfect the musical is bc we'll be here all day. 😂 But it is absolutely perfect, and this AU is going to be a blend of the movie and the musical.

Case in point: the song "Take It Like A Man", where Elle repays Emmett by giving him a makeover. It's the scene where Emmett realizes he's fallen in love with Elle and absolutely adorable ("God, I love shopping for guys - watching them change right before my eyes!" "...stop watching me change.").

As for a scene y'all haven't seen yet...I think you've seen a handful of sentences from this one? It's all new for Tumblr, but I think I shared a few sentences on the Disco. 😂

“Hey, Luka, what are you doing tonight?”

Luka looked up, his eyebrows lifting at the smile Marinette was giving him. Her chin was propped in her hand, her eyes looking over him like…well, a little like she was undressing him, if he was honest, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about that.

“Er…prepping for tomorrow?” he hazarded. “Big day in court? Opening statements? Have to make sure we’re ready so my dad doesn’t swing.”

She rolled her eyes, and then she rolled her chair over to his. He jumped when she laid her hands over his.

“You’re ready,” she said. She squeezed his hand, and he swallowed thickly as she continued to look at him like that. Why did his throat suddenly feel so dry? “Can we go somewhere? I…I want to do something. To thank you. For…everything, really. Please?”

“You don’t need to thank me, Marinette,” he said, wondering what exactly she had in mind. Maybe dinner? He was getting kind of hungry, and he’d be lying if he said he wouldn’t mind spending more time with her away from the law books…

“I do, though, Luka,” she said earnestly, squeezing his hand again. “You…you’re the only one who’s believed in me this entire time. You’ve done so much to help me, and…I just wanted to do something for you, too.” She took his hand and held it to her chest, pouting her lips and batting her eyes at him, and when had the heat kicked in? It was almost May – it shouldn’t be so hot in the old, draft library! “Please?”

“I…um…ok?” he finally squawked out. He cleared his throat when she hit him full-force with her mega-watt smile, hoping his face wasn’t as red as it felt as she squeezed his hand tighter. She gave an excited little squeal-giggle-bounce that had him smiling fondly. “What…what did you have in mind?”

“Well,” she said, releasing his hand and turning towards the table. She began gathering the files they’d scattered over the surface, tidying up. “You know I used to want to be a designer – you’ve heard Jagged go off about that coat.”

“His little frock star,” Luka snickered, and she gave him an exasperated little smile.

“If I had the time, I’d love to design you something,” she said, tapping the folders against the table to straighten them, She turned to him, hands on her hips. “But given we need you ready by tomorrow, that’s not possible. So, Luka Couffaine, I am going to give you…a makeover.”

That…was definitely not what he’d been expecting.

“Er…thanks?” he asked, because by the little hitch in his voice he was definitely asking, because he was definitely confused. A…makeover? But…why? Her expression fell a little, and he coughed as he reached up to loosen his tie. “I mean…it’s just…I didn’t think I needed one?”

And I was kind of hoping you’d suggest dinner?

“Luka,” she sighed, still exasperated. She grabbed his hands and hauled him to his feet before dragging him over to the fireplace. She gestured to the mirror sitting above the mantle, where he could clearly see his…ok, yeah, he looked a little disheveled, but they’d been in the library all day! He was expected to look rumpled! “Look at yourself.”

“I am,” he said, trying not to sound offended. She smoothed her hands over his shoulders, trying (unsuccessfully) to even out the wrinkles in his shirt. He tried to ignore the shiver that wanted to race up his spine at her touch. Focus, Couffaine, he thought. She sighed, turning him towards her, eyeing his clothes rather critically.

“Luka, you know I adore you,” she said, and he tried to ignore the way that made his stomach flutter, “but look at you. This is a high-profile, celebrity case. It’s going to be televised, and you’re going to show up looking like your only suit came from a Goodwill?”

“Hey,” he protested, weakly. He could feel the heat rising on his cheeks again. He looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have two suits, thank you very much, and only one came from Goodwill.”

He glanced up at her to find she had lifted one of those perfectly sculpted brows at him, and he grinned sheepishly before adding: “…the other came from Salvation Army.”

“Luka!” she laughed, squeezing his arms, and his grin warmed into a smile. He liked making her laugh like that. He… “That’s my point, you dork!”

Her laughter petered off, and she started fiddling with his tie. He glanced down at his outfit and tried to see her point, but he honestly thought he looked fine? Rumpled, sure, but that wasn’t anything a good tumble in the dryer or some ironing couldn’t fix. The gray slacks weren’t bad, and the white dress shirt with the thin, dark blue check matched his dark blue tie. Sure, his shoes were a little scuffed, but no one was going to be looking at his shoes. Marinette sighed again, and he looked back up at her.

“Luka, do you remember what I told you I did? Back at UCLA?” she asked. He nodded.

“You had a 4.0 in fashion merchandising,” he said, making her smile. “You wanted to design clothes.”

“So let’s just say this is something I’m actually good at,” she teased, and he frowned as he reached up to lay a hand over one of hers. He squeezed, making her look up at him.

“Hey…you’re good at this, Marinette,” he said. Her smile said she didn’t believe him, so he squeezed her hand tighter. “I mean it, Marinette. I may have helped you study, but all of this was you. You got Agreste’s internship all on your own. You went from the bottom to top of your class on your own. You put the work in, Marinette. You’re so incredibly smart, and you’ve got this…this…gift. You see things others don’t. You aregood at this.”

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t for Marinette to throw herself at him in a bone-crushing hug. He stood there for a moment, dazed, but before he could move or think or respond she was already pulling away and wiping at misty eyes. She smiled up at him, and he wondered if it would be ok if he hugged her again. He kind of felt cheated out of the last one.

“Thank you, Luka,” she said, shaking her head to clear it. “Ugh, ok, but seriously! This is what I was originally good at – so let me shine, ok? Look. You’re good at this, too. You’re such a talented lawyer, and if Agreste gives you half the chance you’re going to blow them away in court – but no one’s going to be thinking about how brilliant you are if you show up looking like a bum. Luka, it’s…it’s me showing up to a costume party dressed like a bunny!”

He blinked at her, remembering all too well that night he’d bumped into her at the bookstore and she was dressed in nothing more than a one piece, bunny ears, and tail.

“The look is half the fight,” she said, taking his hands in her own. “Don’t give them a reason to judge you just because your shoes are old. Please? Let me buy you a suit. Let me do this for you, Luka.”

He still didn’t get it – not really, if he was perfectly honest – but when she looked at him like that…

“…ok,” he said, and the smile and second hug she gave him made it all worth it.

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youngbloodlisk · 4 years ago

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[1800] // Kim Sunwoo

"You're so sexy when you're domestic."

word count: 1560

- straight up dom kim sunwoo smut

- my first time writing smut so sorry for how awful this is lol oh well

- rough but caring sunny boy

- implied future voyerism w eric

- consent checks bc yknow what turns me on more than most anything? CONSENT CHECKS

I jump and almost drop the cutting board full of diced onion in my hands when Sunwoo slides his arms around my waist, clasping them together in front of my body as he presses himself into my back and sways lightly.

"Hey, baby..." He whispers in my ear.

"Hey, how was work?" I slowly continue cooking, carefully using the knife to slide the diced onion off the board and into the simmering pot on the stove.

"Frustrating... it's a long story, I don't really wanna talk about it. Is that okay?"

"Of course, hon." I give him a loving smile and he sighs with satisfaction, burying his head in my neck.

We stay there for a few minutes, me chopping vegetables and swaying with him as he just breathes slowly and deeply into my skin.

Suddenly I feel his tongue on my neck, wet and rough, and my body lights up.

"What are you doing-"

"Shh..." He sensually hisses before placing his mouth back onto my neck, soon finding himself lightly sucking on my skin.

It's becoming continually harder to focus on making this soup.

A small moan escapes my mouth and Sunwoo mutters a deep, rough...

"Oh, baby."

He grabs my hips and turns me to face him, before he reaches behind me and turns off the stove burner.

"What about dinner?" I question.

"That's a problem for later, right now I just wanna-"

"Sunwoo, that was really hot of you, but if we let it cook while we have fun then it'll be ready about when we're finished and all cleaned up. Turn the stove back on." He sighs and reaches to turn the burner back onto a heat level of 4.

"You're so sexy when you're domestic."

"Thanks. Now what is it you wanted to do to me?" I look up at him with innocent, yet dark eyes. The ones I know drive him crazy. And yeah, maybe that's my intention when I use them.

My attempt proves successful when he smirks and looks at me like a wild animal looking at it's next meal.

He picks me up, takes me to the living room, and tosses me onto the couch.

He never has been one for kitchen pounding, but no way is he gonna make it all the way to his bedroom before pulling my clothes off my body.

Speaking of which, it isn't a mere 10 seconds later before my shirt and shorts are being tossed across the room like rags.

Sunwoo stops and takes in my lacy, almost entirely see-through black set.

"For me?" His ego boosts, knowing the answer full well.

"Who else?"

"I don't know, you've said Eric's kinda hot before." He cocks an eyebrow. "You wouldn't do something like that right? Go be a slut for Eric?"

"Not when I have you."

"You better not, baby. He can only see you like this with my permission..." He moves me so that I'm fully laying on my back on the couch and begins to slide my underwear down, with the slowest movement of his entire life.

The implication that Sunwoo isn't opposed to Eric viewing me in this extremely risqué position, only requiring Sunwoo's permission for it, causes my eyes to roll back and an embarrassing whine to leave me.

"Oh? My baby likes that idea?" He finally pulls my underwear off of my body entirely and tosses them aside with my other clothes. "I'll have to bring it up to Eric sometime... But tonight, you're all mine. For my eyes only, and for my tongue only." With that super cringe, cheesy statement he licks a long stripe up my pussy.

Instantly, my eyes shut and my hands rush to find his hair. As his tongue and lips work me over, my breathing is growing heavy and my hips begin to press up against him.

He takes his mouth away, causing me to whine both at the sudden lack of friction and the sight of his mouth all wet and shining.

"You're gonna be a good girl for me, aren't you?"

"I-"

"Aren't you?"

"Yes..."

"Then you don't dictate when you cum, baby. I do. You sit back and let me taste my love. You'll cum in due time. But if you decide to be disobedient, you don't cum at all. Understand?"

I gulp.

That was really hot...

"I understand."

"And you remember your safe word if you want me to stop?" I nod in response.

"Red."

"Good." His hands rest on my hips to help hold me down as he dives in again.

It's a good thing he's holding me down because if he wasn't doing that... I wouldn't be physically able to be obedient.

"S-Sun-Sunwoo, slow down- I'm gonna c-cum-"

He immediately pulls away right as I'm on the edge and I writhe around like a small child who didn't get the chocolate chip cookie they wanted.

"You cum on my cock only, baby. You know that." He unbuttons his pants at the speed of light, his intense hard on making him work faster than usual. "I'm not gonna have to punish you, am I?"

"No, Sunwoo. Please, I'll be good."

He pumps himself a few times before looking at me with genuine eyes, his hard demeanor breaking for a moment to make sure that everything is okay and I want to continue.

I return the genuine look and nod.

He sweetly smiles for a moment, before regaining Hard Dom Sunwoo and slowly pushing into me.

Erotic sounds leave both of us as he bottoms out and stills for a second.

Only for a second though.

He quickly pulls out and slams back into me.

My back arches and I cover my mouth, afraid of the extremely embarrassing noises I'm liable to make as he pounds into me.

He reaches up and grabs my wrist, pulling my hand away from my mouth and ending up holding both of my hands above my head.

"Let me hear you, baby. Let your body tell me how good I make you feel." He's holding my arms up with one hand and the other hand grabs my leg to pull it up over his shoulder.

Once my leg is propped up on his body, he holds my hip and speeds up his pace.

He's reaching me deeper than he ever has before, and my body is DEFINITELY telling him all about it without my permission.

"Sunwoo, please, please, please... Please let me cum. Can I cum?"

"Cum around me, sweetheart. Let me feel you."

He winces in pleasure as I clench around his dick, my orgasm hitting me like a bus.

He lets go of my hands.

"Are you okay, honey? Can I keep going?" I know he's making sure I'm still okay to let him finish inside me. He's told me about a million times that when I cum first, if I want him to stop and finish himself off in the bathroom, he will.

Even though he has needs of his own, he always puts me and my comfort first.

It's just one of the things I really adore about him.

"Yeah, keep going. I'll be alright."

"Are you sure?" His tone tells me that he doesn't believe me, given how hard my orgasm hit. He's afraid I'm far too sensitive and he doesn't want to hurt me.

"Yes, Sunwoo." I grab his hand and look him dead in the eyes. "I promise. I know my word, red. I'm fine. Keep going."

It takes him a second to accept it, but he eventually nods and takes a deep breath before he starts slowly thrusting in and out of me again.

Admittedly, I am still sensitive, but it isn't near as bad as he's imagining in his overprotective mind.

He begins getting lost in the pleasure and his pace quickens, along with his thrusts growing more powerful and deep.

Just the sight of him in so much pleasure from fucking me makes me sweat.

His thrusts become inconsistent and jerky as he gets closer to his release.

Sunwoo hits me with one more hard and deep thrust, filling me with his cum.

He rides out his high and spurts a bit more cum into me before coming to a halt and carefully laying himself onto my body.

I wrap my arms around him in an embrace full of love.

"That wasn't too much, was it? Do you need me to do anything for you, sweetheart?"

"No, it was great, Sunwoo. I'm all good. Are you?"

"I'm great." His stomach growls in protest to that statement and I laugh at the irony. "Just kind of hungry."

"Glad I told you to turn the stove back on, aren't you?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. You're always right." I can practically hear his eye roll in his tone.

"Bet your ass I am."

Sunwoo buries his face in my neck, laughing with me.

His position makes me recall the neck kisses that began all of this earlier.

"Sunwoo, did you give me a hickey?"

"What?"

"Earlier at the stove. Did you give me a hickey? Did you give me a hickey that I'm gonna have to cover up before Juyeon's birthday party tomorrow?"

"Leave it out. Let the guys see. Half of them refuse to believe I actually get any. Prove them wrong for me, babe."

"Kim Sunwoo!"

#ciiikbwork #kim sunwoo #sunwoo smut #the boyz smut #tbz smut #kim sunwoo smut #second time publishing #something on here by myself #thank u to anyone #who liked my #suggestive sunwoo drabble #you made me so happy #ily all #hey nika #i hope you enjoy this

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canyouhearthelight · 4 years ago

Text

The Miys, Ch. 137

Trying to figure out Author’s notes is hard.... Sometimes I just don’t have anything pithy to say, or have too much to say and don’t know where to put it all.

Obviously I am an overthinker.

So, for the sake of everyone reading: Let’s cut to the Shoutouts!

The obvious first: @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog! I love all of you, you are the best.

Special mentions to: @zommbiebro bc I miss you and hope you’re okay. @nekohuntslight for being the OG person to message me about liking the story (yes, Bael, this is the dirty secret behind why I thought you lived in Australia when we first started talking.... shhhhhh). And alllllll the binge readers who blow up my inbox every day, Iloveyousomuchyoudon’tunderstand. Very much adore all of you, you have no idea how serious I am being right now. I need to go through and make one post just screaming all your names to the universe.

Tyche brought drinks and snacks from my kitchen before flopping on the couch in my quarters. The guys were at work, along with Antoine, but my office was closed down for the day. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Vati and Hannah have everything planned to the smallest detail,” I shrugged. “They’ve already coordinated with Xio and Evan for all the crowd control and monitoring shifts, and the murals are going up today.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the logistics stuff. I literally handle all the staffing for the humans on the Ark, and Antoine was also part of the crowd control conversations.”

“Then why did you ask?” I laughed, grabbing a cracker and carefully stacking cheese and other toppings on it.

Before I could get it to my mouth, she snatched it and held it out of my reach. “Because I’m asking how you feel. You’re only attending as… well, an attendee. No monitoring, no calling the shots, no working from the floor.”

She surrendered my cracker, but I found myself setting it down, appetite gone. “I’m okay - “

“Lie.” There was suddenly a finger levelled between my eyes like a gun. Just as quickly, it was lowered, and my sister was tilting her head at me. “Come on. You know you can’t lie to me - I’ve known you longer than literally anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“Fine! It’s weird!” I admitted in frustration, standing to pace and shoving my hands through my hair. “My skin is crawling with anxiety, my hands are twitching to snatch up the files and nitpick everything to the smallest detail….”

“Except they locked you out.”

“Except they locked me out, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I could get Derek to let me in, which is why I’ve made a point to tell him not to, no matter how much I ask.” Dropping my hands, I sighed. “But if I ever want to leave this position, I have to let them do this.”

She shrugged and stole my cracker, this time chewing and swallowing before she responded. “You could have kept some involvement in it, you know.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I would have taken it over, and you know that.”

“Yep.”

“Then why even ask.” I dropped back down on the couch.

“‘Cause you needed to hear yourself say it,” she explained, nonchalant as ever, snagging an olive and watching me calmly.

I sat in silence, processing it. I hated when she outsmarted me like that, especially when she was right. “Can I at least eat first?”

She laughed and let it go, telling me how well the murals for the Festival were coming. I hadn’t even gotten to - allowed myself - to see the designs, and the more Tyche talked about them, the more I wanted to see them. By the time I finished my share of our snack, I decided to check out the progress.

We finally made our way to the decks where the Festival would take place, and I thought Tyche was going to die laughing at the way I gaped. The alcoves where the vendors would stage looked the same on first glance, but a closer look revealed very subtle shapes added that would give them a more savage, wild look in the right lighting. Metal sconces had been added to hold what looked like torches, but with special light emitters to simulate open flame. As we walked further, swirls of color revealed themselves slowly, first in light, curling tendrils, but slowly sharpening and taking on a more angular shape, twisting together into phantasmal images that vanished as soon as you tried to focus on them.

“It’s like walking through a garden, or a rainforest, but when I turn my head, I’m in a city.”

“Right?” she laughed as we came around the final corner.

At this point, we were surrounded by this mural. Just up ahead, there was a messy head of black hair tied back with a green piece of cloth. Bare feet and arms show smears of paint, and overalls covered a tank top - that, or the cloth for the hair had formerly been sleeves, I couldn’t tell. One hand propped up on hips while the other hung down, holding a very familiar paint pen.

“Christ on a triscuit, Vati, this is incredible,” I gasped softly.

She turned and smirked at me over her shoulder. “Not yet, but it will be when I finish.”

“I mean, all of it. The sconces…”

“Those were Hannah and Ivan.” Parvati walked over and touched one with her finger tip, stroking it gently.

Tyche made an impressed noise. “I’m only a little shocked that he had enough time.”

“The materials are on loan from the engineering departments, and we wanted them to be rather rough in the finishing. It helped. Sophia, no matter how curious you are, please do not lick the walls.”

A giggle bubbled up through my chest. “The thought never crossed my mind. I was trying to put together all the flavor profiles here. It’s… a lot.”

“Forgive me if I focused more on color than how the walls would taste. I don’t generally cook, remember.”

I stared down a swirl of pomegranate, popcorn, and gochujang. The colors - blue, pink, and yellow, respectively - worked well together, but the thought of the flavors made my stomach churn. “I solemnly swear not to lick the walls,” I promised. “How much of this are you expecting to still be up by the third night?”

“We have a team that will specifically come touch up the mural in specific places the morning before the second day.”

Tyche turned toward me and away from her study of the art. “Also, you would be surprised how much paint is on the walls. It will take a lot for Else to eat it all, once they are allowed in the area.”

“Before you ask,” Parvati cut me off. “We just asked them nicely. Well, Sam and Derek did. They’ve become quite the ersatz diplomats to Else.”

“Anything left?”

“Hannah is putting the final touches on the curtains for the alcoves and the seating areas. She’ll have a team installing them tonight once I finish.”

It was clever, and explained why she was only touching up part of the mural halfway between now and the closing of the event. “You two have really put your stamp on it.”

“Feel better?” She held one hand up gesturing at the entire entire project, eyebrow arched to show me that she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

I rubbed my neck, and glanced at her from underneath my eyelashes. “Busted, I guess.”

“That would imply that anyone had believed your charade,” she smirked.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around us again. “I honestly do. I could never have done all this. Holding on would have…”

“Kept you in a position you frankly hate,” Parvati interrupted gracefully. “It’s the same reason Sebastian went back to the Undine. He’s passionate about it, and it shows in the quality of his work.” When I gaped in insult, she held up a hand. “Not everyone can succeed through fear of failing and a determination that things be done right if they must be done at all.”

“Everyone talking about me needing to retire, like I’m old or something,” I joked, throwing my hands into the air. “Physically, I’m only thirty-five.”

Tyche nodded to concede my point. “What about the food? I haven’t seen a menu come out yet.”

The change in topic made Parvati’s face collapse. “What? It should have gone out yesterday…” She flicked open her datapad, which flickered from the overspray that covered it. Frantically scrolling, she groaned. “This was scheduled, why didn’t it send?”

“Did you check the date?” I asked calmly. “Specifically the year.”

“Three times, it’s scheduled for tomorrow,” she insisted. “Right here: May seventeenth, twenty-forty aw fuck….”

“At least you got the decade right,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe how many scheduled emails I’ve tried to automatically send out for ten or fifteen years ago.”

She nodded and seemed to get her bearings back. “So, protocol for this is… just send it right now and apologize for the late notification, don’t try to make excuses or explain?”

“Exactly. They won’t care why, they’ll just be excited the list is out.”

With a couple quick gestures, she sent the email and dismissed her datapad. “Okay, that was the last thing, then.” Turning back toward the wall she was working on before, she waved to us over her shoulder. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I really do need to finish this up. Thank you for coming to see everything… it was oddly reassuring to have both of you give us your stamp of approval before the Festival instead of making us wait until after.”

“For the record, you two have always had my stamp of approval, or I wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep my nose out of it.” I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still smiled. “We’ll catch up with you after the Food Festival. Remember: both of you need to plan on taking the day off afterwards. I’m serious. Have your unofficial advisors drop in and chat about everything, that’s fine. But no actual work, and I won’t let either of you see the survey results until the second day after. So rest.”

“Got it, boss lady. Have a good night!”

Tyche and I turned and headed back to my quarters. We remained silent as we took in all the preparations that had been done, waving to the handful of vendors who were bringing their supplies in already. Once we were back in normal corridors, the silence broke almost immediately.

“I think they’ve got this,” Tyche suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh, I know they do.”

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#the miys #found family #humans are weird #science fiction #aliens #apocalypse #humans are space orcs #humans are space fae #earth is space australia #post apocalypse #post post apocalypse #original science fiction #original sci fi #original writing

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wxlfstxrx · 5 years ago

Note

Your O'Knutzy writing is my favourite thing! I feel like Logan is very clingly...wanna write me so cute/soft headcanons abt it? Or when they boys are sick?:))))

hey hey, so i.... deviated... from the prompt I’M SORRY. like i was writing sick logan and somehow i couldn’t channel the clingy whiny part of him. maybe bc i get all awkward, guys-i’m-fine-stop-fussing when i’m sick sooooooo. honestly ngl this took a while to write, it’s been a rough two or so days and i’m just exhausted at the moment. it’s far from how i wanted it to be, but it’s bugging me and i want to post it, so here it is. hope you like it anyway! characters by @lumosinlove.

Logan wakes up one Sunday morning, head pounding and freezing his butt off. He has no idea what time it is, and he tries to open his eyes to check the time on his phone screen, but the moment he even tries to move, it feels like he’s going to throw up.

His whole body hurts and he’s sweating under the covers, but he simply cannot find the energy to throw them off him.

Exhausted, he lets himself drift off into unconsciousness again, until he’s woken up by knocking on his door some time later. He groans, pulling his pillow over his head and hoping that whoever it is will stop fuelling his raging migraine.

When he hears Dumo’s worried voice, however, he sighs and musters up enough energy to yell a very hoarse and scratchy come in that makes him sound like a crying horse.

Dumo nudges the door open with his hip and enters the basement, holding a tray with a bowl of soup and a glass of water with some pills in his hands. “How are you feeling, mon fils?” He asks softly as he approaches Logan’s bed.

“How—” Logan’s voice cracks and he coughs. “How did you know?”

“Well, five out of seven people in this house are currently down with the flu, and it’s currently eleven in the morning but you’re still not up yet. Wasn’t hard to figure that you’d be the sixth,” He shrugs, placing the tray on the cramped nightstand by his bed. He sits on the edge of the bed, and Logan scoots closer under the covers so Dumo can press the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Merde, you’re burning up. Do you want me to bring down some painkillers for you?” Dumo asks, frowning as he combs Logan’s long brown fringe back, away from his sweaty forehead.

“Yeah, that sounds good. Thanks, Dumo,” Logan rasps out, choking at the end as he dissolves into another round of coughs.

Dumo tuts, shaking his head worriedly as he clasps a hand on Logan’s shoulder before standing up. He mumbles to himself in French while he lets himself out of the room, and Logan buries himself further under the covers.

He wakes up again when a warm hand brushes his face, tracing across his cheekbone. He frowns and crinkles his nose, making an incoherent sound as he sniffles, trying to clear his blocked nose.

“Hey, did I wake you up?” A quiet voice asks apologetically, and Logan instinctively leans into the touch. Leo.

“Mmmm, but s’ok,” Logan whispers, his hand emerging from under the duvet to close around Leo’s wrist.

“How’re you feeling?” A second voice pitches in.

“What do you think?” He scoffs, turning his head for a moment so he can sneeze into his elbow.

“Ooh, someone’s moody,” Finn’s grinning face comes into focus as Logan blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the light. He scowls, and Finn’s gaze softens. “Aww, I’m just teasing you, babe. C’mon, can you sit up?”

Leo slides a hand under Logan’s back and helps him shift into a sitting position, propped up against the headboard with the pillows cushioning his back. Finn picks up the bowl of soup and crosses over to the other side of the bed, carefully climbing onto the mattress and planting himself beside Logan, cross legged and facing him.

He gives the soup a few good stirs with the spoon in his hand, squints at the bowl, and frowns. “It got cold.”

Without another word, he gets up and stalks out of the room.

Logan blinks. “I could’ve just drank that. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Leo’s mouth quirks in a lopsided grin. “You know what he’s like. A complete baby at times, but he’s such a mom when it comes to things like this.”

Logan manages a weak laugh, which tapers off into a dry cough. “Fuck, I hate being sick.”

Leo grabs the glass of water and brings it up to Logan’s lips, and he closes his fingers around the glass, taking a few big gulps, letting out a satisfied ahhh when he drains the glass within the span of several seconds.

“Dumo called you two over?” He asks, frowning slightly.

“Mmhm, texted us saying you were ill, that the whole family’s ill, actually—” Leo tosses him a sympathetic look. “But yeah, Dumo’s alone in this, even Celeste can barely get out of bed, so we’re his reinforcements.”

He grins, and turns around as Finn re-enters the room with the same bowl of soup, now piping hot.

“Right, ‘m back, went to reheat the soup, Dumo’s a mess up there, with the kids just, y’know,” Finn rambles absentmindedly as he climbs back onto the bed, the soup sloshing dangerously close to the rim of the bowl.

“I swear, if you spill that…”

“I won’t, now stop talking and drink this,” Finn chides without malice. He scoops a spoonful of the scalding soup, lifts it to his mouth to blow on it gently, and turns his wrist so he can direct the spoon to hover right in front of Logan’s face.

“I— I can do it myself, Harz,” Logan splutters.

“I’m sure you can, babe, I’d be worried if you couldn’t. Now hurry up before I actually do spill this.”

Logan sighs and parts his lips, letting Finn tip the spoonful into his mouth. He sighs, closing his eyes as he feels the warm liquid slide down his throat, and he instantly feels a lot less groggy.

Finn insists on feeding him the whole bowl of soup, whereas Leo helps to bring in a cold, damp cloth from the bathroom to press against Logan’s forehead.

“Mes amours, I’ll be fine,” Logan awkwardly chuckles and rubs the back of his neck, not used to having people fuss over him like this.

Leo gives him a strange look, and Finn grins. “You’re blushing! How adorable. I never thought I’d see the day where you’re embarrassed by people taking care of you.”

“No, I’m not,” Logan says indignantly, but Finn bursts out into laughter.

“You so are. I love this, oh my god.”

“Fuck you,” Logan rasps out, and does a weird, painful combination of a sneeze and a cough.

“Okay, okay, let’s get some rest, hmm? But,” Leo points a finger at him. “Medicine first.”

Damn it.

Logan was hoping that they’d forget about it. He slowly slides downwards, further under the covers, and looks away when Leo holds out the pills in his hand.

“Wha— C’mon, babe,” Leo’s free hand attempts, and fails, to tug the covers off of Logan. “You’re not gonna recover if you don’t take your meds.”

“Don’t wanna,” Logan replies, voice muffled by the duvet covering his mouth.

“Is it the pills?” Finn frowns. “You still don’t take pills after all these years?”

Logan glares at Finn, who looks genuinely surprised for a moment, before he schools his expression, giving the brunette a small smile.

“Okay, okay,” He holds his hands up in front of him in surrender. “Hey, Peanut, give me those. I’ll be back.”

Leo hands Finn the pills, and the redhead leaves the room once again, Leo staring at the door closing.

He slides his hand beneath the duvet and locates Logan’s hand. He laces their fingers together, resting over Logan’s heart and he smiles at him tenderly.

“S’ok, mon chou,” He squeezes Logan’s hand, and he melts at how loving and caring his two boys are towards him. He lets himself snuggle closer to Leo, and Leo runs a hand through Logan’s hair soothingly, helping to ease his headache into a dull throb.

When Finn comes back into the room, grinning like the cheshire cat, Logan can’t help himself.

“What the fuck?” He croaks out.

“Is he allowed to eat that?” Leo asks, startled.

“Yeah, ice cream’s actually good for when you’re sick,” Finn answers, giving them a smug grin. He climbs back onto the bed, beside Logan, and hands him the bowl.

Logan eyes the two scoops of dark chocolate ice cream warily. “Where’re the pills, Harz?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Finn retorts with an exaggerated wink.

“You know,” Leo’s hand freezes and he leans closer to Logan’s ear. “You need to take your meds if you wanna be strong again, hmm? You’ll definitely need your strength for what I’ve planned for you.”

Logan shivers as Leo’s breath tickles his ear and the hand closed around his moves lower, trailing lightly across his abdomen.

“Playing dirty, eh, Peanut?”

“Oh, I’ll show you dirty,” Leo licks his lips, voice low and tone teasing.

Finn clears his throat and nods his head towards the bowl still in Logan’s hand.

“You’re gonna make me finish this, aren’t you?” Logan sighs defeatedly, rubbing his face against the sleeve of his hoodie wearily.

Finn does a mock bow, which looks ridiculous considering he’s seated down, body half twisted to face him. “Any time now, Your Highness.”

Logan rolls his eyes, but lets go of Leo’s hand to pick up the spoon. He tries his best not to think about the pills buried somewhere within the scoops of ice cream, and he shovels spoonful after spoonful into his mouth while leaning against Leo’s side.

He reckons he tasted the bitterness of the pills at some points, but overall he has to admit that it’s better than he expected. Finn looks like a proud mom when Logan finishes the final scoop and leans his head back against Leo’s shoulder, his eyes fluttering shut.

Leo pulls the empty bowl out of Logan’s hands and turns around to place them on the nightstand.

“How’re you feeling, baby?” Finn whispers, moving closer so he can wrap an arm around Logan’s shoulders.

Logan just nods and hums a noncommittal response, full and warm and satisfied. He feels Leo adjusting his position so they’re lying side by side on the bed, Logan in Finn’s arms and Leo spooning him from the back.

“Thank you,” he murmurs into Finn’s chest, feeling his mind drift in and out of focus once again.

A soft kiss is pressed onto the top of his head, and he mentally thanks Dumo for calling his boys, his perfect boys, over to the house. He feels much better now; his head has almost completely stopped pounding, he’s stopped sweating through his hoodie, and he feels loved.

Logan falls right back asleep with a smile on his face, not even stirring when the door creaks open and Marc stumbles in, piling on top of the boys, right between him and Finn. He definitely doesn’t stir when Dumo stands in the doorway with his phone out to snap a picture of the four boys huddled together on the bed, tired beyond belief, but with the biggest smile he’s ever had all day.

#Finn O'Hara #Logan Tremblay #Leo Knut #O'Knutzy #Lumosinlove #Sweater Weather #Coast to Coast

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sylvie-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Bad: The Unfortunate Ending

Inspired by this song ➳ Bad by Lennon Stella

(Ransom Drysdale x wife reader)

A/n: this is my first attempt at angst so here we go...

Disclaimer: not part of my fall writing, this is just a lil something bc I needed to write, it makes me happier after days as today.

Warnings: Cheating, mild profanity, shitty angst & writing. Ransom being an asshole (rip all the soft Ransom stories I’ve written)

Series Masterlist

Never in a thousand years would you have seen yourself sitting in Boston’s most expensive and high end restaurant, a steak simmering at 500 degrees laying out in front of you, and the Ransom Drysdale sweetly smiling at you.

“Wait, before you start eating, I have something to ask you, love.”

Was he gonna break up with you?

Ransom reached over his plate to reach your hand gently bringing it to his lips while maintaining eye contact with your shocked expression, soon calming.

Oh whew.

The man then set down your hand, and folded up the napkin in his lap before rounding the table, getting down on one knee. Your eyes were already welling up with tears, making it impossible to see all the people staring at you and Ransom.

“(y/n) (l/n)...

… … ...

Will you marry me?”

After his adoring speech, the four little words came out and the man on his knee was staring up at you like you were a goddess. Overwhelmed, you happily spewed out the words of acknowledgement while Ransom slipped the lavish diamond onto your ring finger, kissing the now ringed finger before scooping you up from your chair, the two of you in a deep kiss amidst the cheers.

A few months later the two of you got married, and everything was a dream. You had a lovely house, and a husband who was practically your closest friend. The two of you spent all your time together, told every joke, talked all the time. Believe or not but Mr. Fancy Pants had preferred that you got married sooner rather than having an extravagant wedding ceremony.

So that's what you did. One lovely Monday morning, you and Ransom drove to the courthouse, in the beamer, as if it were just any other day.

You thought then and there, that this was it. Life was finally playing in your favor...

All the little gifts you gave

I call it over compensating

Feeling just like a princess

Every answer was always yes

You had me living in a dream

“Oh Ransom!” You played with the little puppy down at your feet, a red ribbon adoring it’s small, yet fluffy neck.The little thing jumped into your arms, causing you to lift off the floor, walking closer to Ransom.

“Why did you get me a puppy, Hugh?”

He just cheekily smiled and shrugged, walking by to kiss your cheek. “No reason!”

You just laughed it off before going outside to play fetch with the energetic fur baby.

Ransom always treated you for no reason, at times you really hated him for it, but not once would he ever let up.

About four months into your marriage, Harlan had invited you and Ransom to some writer’s charity gala, a black and white party, meaning Ransom was gonna rent a tux and you’d find an overly priced yet attractive dress.

So, one Saturday afternoon, you and Ransom went to the mall, getting fitted for your clothes. You weren’t about the name brands like Ransom was, but today, Ransom now had full advantage to shower you in expensive clothing having already picked his tux yesterday. His sneaky little plan to go dress shopping with you.

“What about this one?” Your husband held up a black slip dress designed by Prada. Curiously you walked up to him, checking the tag to see its $1,000 price. In all honesty, from the looks of the dress, you had assumed Ransom picked up a simple dress. Sure, it was pretty but you weren’t about to pay that much just for the name. For what it is worth, you could sew and tailor the damn thing yourself.

“That’s ridiculous, Ransom. I’m not about to pay that much.”

You went to go walk off before you felt Ransom’s hot breath in your ear.

“Who said you were paying?”

Turning around, you playfully pushed him in the chest to which he laughed and peppered kisses all over your face.

“Ransom! Stop, you’re making a scene!”

He pulled away for a minute, your giggles ceasing.

“Let me treat you and I will stop.”

Quickly, the man resumed his attack, your pleas soon becoming words of compliance.

“Fine!”

His signature smirk danced across his lips, while his free arm snaked around your waist ushering you to the tailor’s stand.

What's forever long to you

Did you say that to her too

Making sure that I'd never know

Callin her while the shower goes

It was a little after midnight and Ransom wasn’t home yet, today he had been out with some friends, not inviting you. Your only company for the day was your precious little puppy, who was curled up against your stomach. The endless worry had kept you up all night as you mindlessly stroked the puppy’s back, trying to calm your own nerves.

Eventually, an hour later, the hallway light shone under the door, Ransom coming in. He was met with your worried look and came to rush over to your side.

“You scared me to death, Ransom. Two hours ago, you were supposed to be back!”

“I know. I know. I’m so sorry baby. Now, get some sleep, I love you. Forever, my love.”

Ransom gently pulled the blanket over you, kissing you goodnight, then heading off to shower.

Turning on the shower, Ransom pulled the phone out of his pocket, scrolling to the bottom of his contacts and dialing, Blair❤️.

“Hey baby, today was amazing Ranny!”

A deep chuckle left Ransom’s throat, the woman on the phone giggling.

“I know, angel. You are the best, love ya forever, Sweetheart.”

Blair continued to gush over the phone, recalling the earlier events of the day at her house where Ransom had spent the whole day. (leaving that sentence to the eye of the beholder.)

Shower, and you, long forgotten, Ransom spent the rest of the night talking to the woman, leaving the bedroom to go downstairs, assuming you were already asleep.

Ironically, that night, you dreamt of all the times you and Ransom would stay up just talking and laughing...

Then crawl back in bed, it's a shame

I probably should've known better

It was 4 am, and Blair had fallen asleep on the phone, leaving Ransom to bid her goodbye and get some shut eye himself.

It was like sleeping next to a stranger, the warmth of the bed now gone. Coldness, replacing the loving embrace.

About two months ago, your work gave its employees a week off for the holidays. It was once in a blue moon that you got to see your family, so you seized this opportunity. You wished your husband could have come, but Ransom had to stay behind to help Harlan with an upcoming novel. In truth, Ransom never saw himself reverting back to his bad ways, but who knows what entices people to change.

One night, Ransom went out for a drink, a young lady, about twenty-seven years old, came up to the sulking man. He was drowning his sorrows in a couple of beers, wishing he were there with you. Oh how he missed you!

“Hey stranger.”

The sultry voice hit too close to home for Ransom, a voice he knew all too well.

And let’s just say a few drinks later, he came to remember his old fling as Blair.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

It felt like you were living a hallmark movie, and never would you have thought any different.

Your feet were propped on the Ransom’s lap as the two of you laid down Uno cards on the coffee table.

“Ransom?”

“Yes, darling?”

You set the Uno cards in your lap, adjusting on the couch so that you’d be straddling Ransom. The man brightly smiling at you, enveloping you with his muscular arms. In complete bliss, you leaned forward and kissed him, a slow and intimate kiss. Time completely stopped as you were just in your own little world.

He treated you so well, you’d never be prepared for the heartbreak that’d ensue.

I wasn't catching on to you

Blinded by your lips so smooth

Excusing all of your gotta goes

Leaving me to be all alone

“Do you really have to go, Ransom?”

Your arms were wrapped around the man’s neck, pleading for him to stay. A small frown made a way onto his lips before he leaned in to kiss you deeply, pulling away from your lips while you were still trying to catch up.

“I gotta go.”

With that, he rushed out. A business meeting was it? Or was it Harlan? You couldn’t remember. For the past two months, you’ve been accepting all of his excuses, soon all of them blending, yet in the end you were always left standing in the house, alone with your dog.

It's okay, you told yourself. Sure he forgot your birthday last month. It’s fine.

As long as he didn't forget your wedding anniversary next month, everything would be fine…

Right?

Then you took my heart just the same

I probably should've known better

No it wasn’t fine. He forgot your anniversary. He forgot you. In the mornings, he’d no longer stay with you, instead finding an excuse to rush out, no kisses, not even hugs, Rarely did the two of you talk and soon, it became your new normal.

You should’ve known better.

Every word you said you was sweet but you was lying

Everything you covered making up just to keep to me from crying

Another late night, Ransom had gone to help his mother at some dinner party for her business, or so he said. He left early this morning, claiming he was gonna help set up and that he’d be home by 8. Yet, here you are, watching the 11 o’clock news, waiting for your husband’s arrival since he had left you with radio silence all day.

Suddenly, the door flew open, a sloppily dressed Ransom, stumbling in, clearly piss-ass drunk.

“Oh you're awake!”

You walked over to help him sit on the couch, just as you were about to turn off the lamp beside the couch, you noticed a tint of red lipstick on Ransom’s lips. You hadn’t worn any lipstick today, right?

Tenderly, you traced your thumb over his lips, as his eyes gazed into yours.

“Ransom, what’s on your lips?”

In a poor attempt, Ransom went to grab your hand, missing and instead grabbing your shoulder, leaning in to kiss you, instead getting your ear.

“It’s nothing, (y/n).”

His head was laying on your shoulder, as he was about to fall asleep, his energy suddenly gone.

“Really? It seems like something, you have a woman’s lipstick on your lips for god sake!”

Ransom then perked up and hugged you tightly, whispering reassuring words to you. Drunkenly, his words mashed together, causing you to barely understand his “comforting” speech.

“I love you so much, sweetheart, I’d never do that to you.”

Sweetheart, a name once reserved for you, now unknowingly shared with another woman.

Believing his lies, because why not? He had never given you a reason not to trust him, not yet anyway.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

That very next week, Ransom had to leave once again, this time a boys’ trip to the club. You thought nothing of it, now used to his absence, keeping to yourself with the dog and some friends.

Later that afternoon, you were enjoying a sandwich and lemonade out on the front porch when a Maseratti pulled into the driveway, a familiar man stepping out.

“(y/n)! Is Ransom home?”

The man pulled you into an embrace, leaving you confused at his presence.

“Why are you here Oliver? Ransom said he was out with you and James.”

Oliver just shrugged his shoulders, he too jumping to the same conclusion. At this point you were just seeing red, storming into the house, Oliver following. You practically were stomping holes into the hallway for your footsteps were as heavy as your heart. Maybe all along you had been suspicious deep inside, maybe you just never wanted to believe it.

Then finding Ransom’s phone in his nightstand, you came back into the doorway to meet Oliver. If your suspicions were true, you’d like to at least embarrass the dumbass in front of his friend. They all knew he was a playboy at heart, but after you, every one had assumed he’d matured somewhat.

Clearly, they were all wrong.

Your husband was the biggest idiot in the world, making his password your anniversary date, for he was so forgetful. You found this hilarious, because he forgot your first wedding anniversary, god you were so naive.

Was this wrong? Sleuthing through his phone?

Sure. But it could never equal up to what you were about to find.

Opening text messages, 50 unread, all from you, your messages definitely ignored as a woman named Blair was at the top of his messages.

You gagged at the heart by her name, one that used to be by yours. Scrolling through the texts, you found yourself growing angrier by the minute, finally, you just lost it. With great vehemence, you slammed the phone against the floor, making it shatter everywhere, Oliver and your dog, slightly jumping.

It was then that it hit you.

You crashed to the floor, crying hysterically, as the world came crashing down with you. Oliver, crouching down on the floor, trying to calm your sobs.

Tonight you were gonna confront that backstabbing, no good, cheating son of a bitch.

Tell me the truth

Was it worth it was I worth it for you

'Cause we were perfect we working til you

Forgot to tell me you been seeing someone else for six years

It was 9 pm and you hadn’t expected Ransom’s arrival for another hour or two, so you spent the time packing your bags and drinking some coffee, preparing yourself to tear the man a new one.

This time, there wasn’t a slammed door signaling Ransom’s presence, rather soft footsteps and his low voice, like the old days.

Ha, the one time he gets home early. Ehh you were ready anyway

“Hey babe! Oooh can I have some?”

Before you could answer, Ransom took your mug and a few swigs of coffee, handing it back to you, placing a kiss on your head. In utter surprise, you looked up at the man who just smiled down at you.

“You look I haven’t kissed you in weeks, my love.”

And with that he pecked your lips quickly, walking to the counter, you still trying to process what had just happened.

It was true. He hadn’t kissed you in weeks.

No, you weren’t gonna let him win this time.

“It’s because you haven’t.”

Confusion swirled around on Ransom’s face, allowing you to continue.

“You haven’t kissed me in weeks. But you have kissed Blair, I'm sure.”

The coffee mug in his hand dropped onto his foot, shattering, leaving you smirking at the small victory.

Heartbreak can make one go insane. Afterall, you are losing the one person you loved most, losing yourself along with them.

“For months I have put up with your bullshit…”

A good ten minutes passed of you yelling at Ransom, the man unexpectedly letting you finish.

“You’re a cheating, son of a bitch.”

Angrily, you ripped off the wedding ring, now noticing Ransom wasn’t even wearing his, for god knows how long too. Once upon a time, he’d proudly wear it all the time.

“(y/n) wait--”

Ransom grabbed your arm before you slapped him, the man slightly stunned.

“No. I’m tired of your excuses, I’m tired of letting you win. You and Brittany, should have an amazing life together, that is if you can even commit to her like you told me.”

A whisper of defeat left his mouth.

“It’s Blair…”

“The hell with it! You broke my heart Ransom! I knew it was too fucking good to be true. DAMN IT, I LOVED YOU.”

Hysterically laughing, you looked like a mad woman, lowering your voice just a bit.

“You know what makes this hurt 2x worse? I thought you had actually loved me too, because it seemed like it.”

You broke into tears, your heart in a thousand pieces, rushing away to grab your bags, Ransom not even trying to fight, knowing you're too strong this time. He let the best thing that ever happened to him slip away.

Ages ago you could remember the lovely times with the man you once would die for, yet...

Your love was just an illusion.

I wish that you would've treated me bad

The truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

I wish that you would've treated me bad

Truth is you couldn't have loved me better

Now I'm left feeling twice as sad

I wish you would've treated me bad bad bad

a/n: maybe i should stay away from angst bc this sucked.

Updated a/n: this is gonna be a series! If you’d like to be on the taglist lemme know!!

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans #chris evans x reader

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ms2jfv7os132 · 4 years ago

Note

Anons are always telling you about their headcanons about Luz. Now, it's your turn! Tell us your Luz headcanons!

alright king some of my personal luz hcs for the masses (stole/got inspiration for some of these from @hellpuppy-king ty gabriel!)

- luz can and will spend hours on end just drawing glyphs in her notebook to prep for when she needs them

- sometimes she does this absentmindedly while watching soap operas/anime with king in the living room (mostly so she has something to do to keep her from getting bored)

- howEVER, during the times when she n king get Super Invested in the show, she’ll completely forget about the glyphs, and every once in a while eda will walk in to see luz, notebook and pencil in idle hand, both her n king on the edge of their seats with their eyes glued to the crystal ball, and just smile

- the only other way luz will work on her glyphs is with complete focus and in complete silence. the only noises she will make exceptions for are the distant clanging sounds of eda shuffling around the kitchen and king’s soft snoring if he happens to be sleeping on a pillow next to her bc they’re familiar and comforting sounds. she will not make any exceptions for hooty (and hooty has since learned to respect that)

- i just feel like luz would have a fidget spinner idk why. she’d keep one in her pocket n take it out whenever she needs it, like when she needs something for her hands to do in order to keep nervousness/anxiety in check, when she has a billion too many ideas in her brain, or when she’s just plain bored

- oh also hot take: luz’s “no thoughts head empty” look isnt actually bc no thoughts head empty it’s bc she suddenly got a bunch of ideas at once and she isn’t exactly sure how to handle having so many thoughts in her head so she kinda stands still and gets a blank expression while she sorts thru all her ideas

- maybe luz didn’t have a lot of friends her age, but camila was 100% her best friend and number one. ever since she was little, they’d do EVERYTHING together. they made up a secret code that only the two of them would understand, camila would play along as all the side characters in the make-believe games luz would come up with, and you can Bet every time luz wanted to stop by their favorite cafe for a treat camila would try to be strict only to immediately melt at luz’s adorable baby eyes

- luz’s first language was spanish no i will not hear any alternatives bc i am right. she didn’t really learn to speak english until she went to preschool, and even now at home she switches constantly and effortlessly between spanish and english with her mom

- as a kid, luz would regularly sit camila down in their living room to watch her reenact all the plots of her favorite books or the weekly fantasy plots she'd make up on her own, complete with a cardboard stage, blankets as curtains, and props ranging from stuffed animals to glitter-covered contraptions she spent hours gluing together. camila would gasp, laugh, and cry along with every performance, and luz would always get an enthusiastic standing ovation at the end of the night without fail

- luz has been BEGGING camila for a pet since the beginning of time. as of the start of canon, she has asked for a cat, a dog, a fish, a bird, a hermit crab, a hamster, a snake, a bearded dragon, a ferret, a hedgehog, a turtle, and a chicken. camila has said no every single time.

#sdfhjksdfh i’m sorry this took so long i kept this in my drafts for a while bc i wanted to compile a decent list #b4 u ask yes most of these are based on personal experience #sorry if the stuff camila would do w luz as a kid isnt realistic idk what its like to have a healthy relationship w a mother figure :/#i was just kinda like. yea that sounds right i wouldve liked it if my mom did that lmao #hope this is satisfactory anon...i tried my best #asks #anon

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years ago

Text

Don’t Wanna Forget a Thing

For @fyeahnix !!!!!! Thank you so much for your patience and I hope you end up loving this as much as I love creating it! Thank you also for always giving me such fun prompts to do for the Goirls!!!!!

Summary: Anita and Wraith get away from the games for their anniversary on a vacation that involves being together, lots of good food, lots of Wraith taking pictures, and more than one sexual romp. Finally having privacy away from the games only making Wraith realize more and more things about how she pictures her life with this beautiful woman. Or! In which Anita and Wraith go on an anniversary trip and kiss and fuck a LOT and also bask in each other's presence.

IT COSTS ZERO DOLLARS TO REBLOG IF YOU LIKE IT :D

!!!Minors and ageless blogs dni or you will be blocked!!!

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Bangalore/Wraith

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Wraith has piercings which is mentioned, public play, scent kink stuff, lots of picture taking + recording that is also explicit bc Wraith wants to remember Everything, Lil bit of bondage, and LOTS of the girls loving each other soooo much

Words: 10.4k

____________________

Psamathe was easily one of the most sumptuous, luxurious locations Wraith had ever seen in her life.

That’s all she could think when Anita brought up taking a trip there for their first-year anniversary. Olympus in its abandoned state as it was, was already terribly expensive looking in appearance. And that’s just for when they were fighting rather than going somewhere just to spend time together. Albeit, holding a knife to your girlfriend’s throat could be considered ‘spending time together’ but not when you were ready to steal Champion right from under their nose.

At first, Wraith had been a bit nervous. It was a beautiful location, don’t get her wrong, with plentiful shops and beautiful scenery. But any hesitations she may have had disappeared at the sight Anita’s excited face. Wraith was already wrapped around her finger and agreeing that it sounded like a great idea for their time off between seasons.

Anita had never been on a vacation like this before, she had admitted with a bit of a sad chuckle. Family vacations weren’t really a thing in their family- always on the stiffer end of waiting for more orders from the military. Being able to get away, as she explained it to Wraith, was almost like a dream.

Most people went home. Wraith and Anita both had their own reasons for not returning. Wraith, because she didn’t even know if she had any family members to begin with. And Anita, her home planet and family being too far- the whole reason she joined the games in the first place. Finding someone willing to take her home.

But together, they were their own family.

Together, they were a home.

~Rest under the cut~

The dropship leading to their hotel is spent with Wraith wide awake and Anita leaning down and to the side to rest her head on her shoulder. Wraith spends that time with her head resting against hers, her hand resting on Anita’s thigh and squeezing soothingly when Anita gets disturbed by a bit of turbulence. Soft murmurs of, “We’re okay, shh, I’m here. Rest up, baby.” To encourage Anita back to rest. Normally followed by Anita’s soft, fond hum and her freckled cheek nuzzling lightly across the top of Wraith’s head.

Their hotel is even prettier than the pictures. Huge and spacious with a big enough bed for them to share. Not like the size would save Anita’s body from the wrath of Wraith’s cold hands, however. The canopy bed was massive, with beautiful white gauzy fabric tied up around it giving it this romantic feeling with soft twinkling lights entangled in pink flowers.

To the left of it was a huge balcony overlooking a beautiful lake with big mountains and trees since in the distance across the way, with the city’s lights on the opposite side sparkling enticingly. Benches, tables, and chairs on the balcony for a quiet night or morning overlooking the beauty of the city they were staying at.

The bathroom was huge on its own with a walk-in shower made from stone and glass, big enough you could probably host at least five people in there comfortably, and a clawfoot tub off to the side. The double vanity with quartz countertops was equally as lovely, including everything they may need for their stay left atop in a basket.

“I could get used to this.” Anita had murmured low in her chest, arms wrapping around Wraith from behind in the bathroom as they both looked at the massive mirror together. Wraith had hummed her agreement, it definitely being a step up even from their quarters at the compound. Her plump lips quirk up into a half smile, turning her head up to receive a forehead kiss.

From there, it was planned dates for their two weeks in the city.

Anita suggests scoping out the city first, reminding Wraith that Natalie had a few places she wanted them to try as well. Wraith remembered, having written them down with Natalie’s insistence and a big smile on her face- anything for her best friend, after all.

The first day is sightseeing, going and walking around with their hands interlocked. Anita didn’t tend to care for PDA, but after a few hungry looks peering over at her, Wraith had casually slipped their hands together. A low hum nearing a growl in her throat when Anita had laughed. “What? Don’t like people checkin’ out the goods?”

“Don’t like people checking out what’s mine.” Wraith had coolly replied, looking up at her from under her thick lashes and smirking when she catches Anita’s freckled cheeks flushing and a small lip bite.

Cute.

She’s so cute.

Should let them watch-

Should let them watch how we tear her apart-

“They bugging you?” Anita’s voice cuts in, looking pointedly at how milky white Wraith’s eyes turn. Wraith shakes her head softly, offering a little shoulder shrug to show they weren’t saying anything worrying. No danger. However, Wraith wasn’t about to stroke Anita’s ego and tell her the reasons why.

They stop at locations to eat, a nice outside area in the morning where Anita looks beautiful in the morning light with her hands cupped around a mug and her full lips curling around the lip of it. Wraith must look at her a bit too fondly because Anita smirks, with a cocky sounding remark about if Wraith would rather take a picture to make it last longer. To which Wraith replies sarcastically of how she bets Anita wished she would, only to make Anita laugh, her head thrown back and dimples creasing her cheeks.

Wraith would end up taking a picture of her, however, for her book to keep for her own memories. Fit with little hearts drawn around it of where the morning light kissed Anita’s warm face and made her face glowy with her little smile left on her lips.

Parks were Wraith’s personal favorites. The large trees and walking paths brought a warm peace to her as she walked hand in hand with Anita. The crunch of Autumn leaves under her boots’ heels with each step and the crisp breeze blowing a few loose hairs from her messy bun around her. Everyone was quiet for the most part. Only occasionally piping up when Wraith would peek at Anita and everyone would start their rants. Ranging from Wraith’s innermost adoring thoughts to the filthier of them.

Who would have thought shopping would be Anita’s favorite? She loved clothes shopping, namely, putting Wraith in outfits and having her walk out and twirl for her. Anita’s own wardrobe was kept pretty simple, more masculine or neutral clothing just like she liked it. Though at some point in time, Wraith walks out in a sweet white dress she would have never picked. A thin bow tied at her chest and the sleeves short and puffy resting just on her biceps below her shoulders with the skirt flowy and sweet. It looked very cute- but definitely not her normal style.

It seems to do it for Anita however, who ends up in the dressing room with her, kissing Wraith until her breath is gone and her legs are hooked around Anita’s waist so she can grind into her and grunt in her ear about how good she looks.

That picture was taken by Anita, a selfie of the two with Wraith propped up against the wall by Anita’s hips still and Anita raising one side of her lips in an almost snarl and doing a rock sign. Whilst Wraith’s hair was a mess, bite marks on her neck and covering her face with her arm while her top and bra were tugged below her plump breasts.

That would later start a war between them of many more selfies and pictures in more sexual settings. One always having to prove they were better than the other.

Not that Wraith didn’t notice, though. How much Anita loved being on camera. Something that would be used to her advantage later as well.

Another day, they go to a cute café together. Sitting outside of it where the sky is gray and the rain gently patters down without too much concern for it underneath the large, white, lacy parasol over their heads. On the matching glass table is a plate of sampler little cakes, since Wraith was unsure of the flavors she would or wouldn’t like. On the table if her journal detailing the foods she liked and disliked, just so she could keep track for later purposes.

Anita insists on feeding her the bites, fit with a hand cupped under the spoon and her going, “Say ahh.” A blinding smile always on her face when Wraith rolls her eyes dramatically before going ‘aaah’ to placate her. Sealing her lips around the sweet cakes and having a different opinion each time.

Each bite is taken into account, with Anita laughing at her when Wraith makes displeasured faces fit with crinkling her nose when it’s a flavor she isn’t fond of. Normally followed by Wraith swallowing said bite and quickly downing it with water and hastily writing in her book with an underlined red pen of ‘No’ in bold.

If it’s a flavor she enjoys, she notes that Anita goes quiet when Wraith hums in a low moan of pleasure with the taste. Taking her time to flick her tongue over the spoon or linger a bit too long just so she can peek at Anita whose cheeks are red, but a small smile still on her face.

When Anita goes to take a bite of a cake Wraith really liked right after her, she leans herself across the table to kiss Anita. Swiping her tongue over her lips with another low hum of approval as she situates herself back in place with a look over Anita’s red face at the blatant PDA. “Mmh. I think I like it better when it’s from your mouth instead.”

“Ghostie, Imma need you to tone it down in public,” Anita whispers breathily at her, her ears burning and her elbow going to rest on the table with a hand over her face so she can hide her embarrassed look from Wraith.

Which is oh so fondly taken a picture of by Wraith after a quick glance down at the glass table to see how tightly Anita’s got her thighs pressed together and squirming lightly.

She’s so easy to turn on.

Look at how cute she is when she turns red for us.

You know she doesn’t actually want it to be toned down.

No one is around, what’s she so shy about?

Maybe she’s hoping you’ll take here right here--

In front of you.

Wraith blinks the visions away just in time to see Anita uncovering her face, reaching across the table to try and smear cake on Wraith’s face. Thankfully with the warning, Wraith jerks back with a short chuckle when Anita narrowly misses, only skimming her bottom lip with icing. The dodge only makes Anita try harder to get her, resulting in laughter from the both of them as Wraith leans back, ending up snatching her wrist and twisting her arm back towards Anita to aim for her face back.

They don’t notice a couple passing by soon after, holding an umbrella to stay close and looking over at the duo with a fond smile on their own faces as they think of their youth together.

The day proceeds just as softly with them together, walking the streets and occasionally taking breaks to rest or just to look at the hologram of a map and figure out what their next location should be. Sitting shoulder to shoulder and both feeling freer than ever without the responsibilities of keeping things ‘under wraps’ for the interviews for the Games.

Even then, they were known across the Outlands. Fans would occasionally stop them even here, smiling and giggling and asking for pictures. Both always declined the pictures, but most were respectful and understood and just told their stories. Some people telling Wraith that she helped them accept themselves with their own disorders- something she never thought she’d even help with. People with DID relating to her or schizoaffective disorders.

It felt...good for someone else to relate to her. For someone else to see her and think if she could do something like that, they could too.

When people stop Anita, their own stories are just as warming. Seeing not only a strong woman competing on screen, but a black woman. People explaining how it empowered them to apply for jobs they would have never before, or to be more assertive in saying No to people due to Anita’s most infamous interviews where she’d put her foot down at certain questions and tell them to move on or she would be leaving.

Not to mention some of the women stopping Anita looking to be of more masculine dress like she was, always seeming to bond to her in a way of seeing representation in a ‘Stud’ on screen. When Wraith had asked about that term after they had left, Anita explained it with a bit of a laugh and a one shouldered shrug. “Just some slang, baby.”

“An accurate term.” Wraith hums back, her eyes looking Anita over from toe to head in a slow drag and making a clear show of checking her out. That results in a blush on Anita’s cheeks, lightly shoving Wraith’s shoulder and shushing her once more. Again, Anita didn’t like PDA, something Wraith used to her advantage to make her blush even more.

Later that night, however, it would be Anita’s turn to enact some red cheeked vengeance.

Under the night sky with beautiful bright stars, there’s a violinist in the streets playing a beautiful love song on the corner of the street. People have gathered around to listen and watch her play, some kind of swaying to the music or holding their loved one with them.

Wraith feels a hand grab hers as they get closer, only to be pulled in a twirl back towards Anita and her waist grabbed as she smiles down at Wraith. “May I have this dance?”

Wraith’s face flushes red with an embarrassed laugh choking from her throat as Anita begins to lead them in a dance on the sidewalk. Twirling her and swaying with her and making Wraith’s nervousness bubble down into just soft laughter as she’s twirled back into Anita’s arms and dipped with one of her legs going up to complete said dip.

They’re watching.

“Anita they’re looking-”

“Let them. What? A girl can’t dance with her favorite ghost?” Anita’s voice is teasing as she pulls Wraith back up, spinning her in a twirl once again and dragging her body close to hers with a tighter grip on her waist and mischief flashing in her dark eyes. “Ya don’t mind the PDA when you’re doin’ it, but when I do it...”

Wraith is lifted by her waist and spun in the air, making an uncharacteristic and humiliating squeak leave her lips as her hands grip Anita’s broad shoulders. She’s brought back down, their noses nuzzled together and making her face feel all too hot when Anita chuckles low and rumbling in her chest. “See why you like it. Like when you turn all red for me.”

That night, Wraith makes sure to turn Anita all red for her. Fit with licking into her mouth and tying her down, making her thighs shake and her muffled moans crying out around Wraith’s panties in her mouth. Wraith makes sure to take a picture of her afterwards with flash just to embarrass Anita further, admiring the pictures afterwards and how her nails had scratched ‘Mine’ across Anita’s abdomen in raised dark pink marks.

These would go right in her personal journal, for her eyes only unless she wished to embarrass Anita by showing and reminding her.

The present day was a lazy day in the morning. Spent in bed for most of it and resting in each other’s embrace and eating together. Wraith needs the down time, and it looks like Anita does too considering the way she whines whenever Wraith needs to get up to do something as simple as brush her teeth. Needily burying her face into Wraith’s neck or back once she’s finally back in bed and grumbling about her cold skin when Wraith’s nails scratch at Anita’s scalp and running her cool fingers down her neck.

Of course, that only results in Anita getting said cold hands pressed further across her skin until she has to arch into her girlfriend and away from her freezing hands. Only able to stop her when Anita grabs her wrists and pins them above Wraith’s head with a huff. “Watch it, Blasey.”

“Or you’ll what, Sergeant?” Wraith quips back with a cock of her head. Her hair loose from its normal up position, dark locks curling around her head and her face in a messy way that makes Anita swallow. Her baby blue eyes look hungry as she peers up at her from under her lashes, her strong thighs spread around Anita’s hips and her soft, plump lips quirking into a smirk when Anita doesn’t reply. “Gonna tie me up so I can’t touch you? I’d like to see you try.”

Anita opens her mouth to huff back that she’s stronger than her and ropes wouldn’t be necessary to hold Wraith down. Only to yelp when Wraith hooks one leg around her waist, thrusting her hips in time to push Anita backwards and using her weight to push her back. Anita lands with an ‘oof’ on her back, her girlfriend happily perched on her lap with now Anita’s hands above her head, laced in Wraith’s.

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Wraith teases, leaning down to be close enough their breath mingles.

“I’d like somethin’ on my tongue, that’s for sure.” Anita breathes back, her eyes flickering down to her plump lips and how Wraith smirks. Wraith makes sure to lick her own lips, the flash of her piercing making Anita’s breath hitch.

Too easy.

“Be a good girl and keep your hands up there for me, hm?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Wraith moves her head down, ending up kissing along Anita’s neck, leaving small bites and humming when Anita moans. Letting her tongue slide down her neck as Anita tilts her head to the side with a satisfied sigh when lips brush that little spot she liked being kissed the most.

Only for Wraith to blow a big, wet raspberry in her neck and causing Anita to shout, squirm, and shove at Wraith who goes falling backwards with a laugh.

Only for a pillow to thump her right in her face in turn.

That results in laughter bubbling from their room as they fire pillows at each other, ending with Anita running to take shelter in the shower and Wraith cornering her with a pillow until Anita can swing and pin her to the shower wall. Resulting in more laughter and stolen kisses and finally a truce.

By the time night rolls around, they’ve both have had their very necessary downtime. Tonight, they were going to go to a club, one that Ramya had suggested to Anita. Of course, when Anita had narrowed her eyes and mentioned that Ramya had been 20 when she came on a business trip here and wouldn’t be old enough to enter the club, Ramya had merely given her a look. ‘Been runnin’ this business since I was a kid, but me handlin’ guns is less frightening to you than underage drinking? C’mon, ‘Nita, don’t be such a mom.’

Anita dresses up for the occasion. A black, tailor fitted button up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her forearms and it unbuttoned tastefully down towards her cleavage but covering entirely. Black form fitting slacks fitting into her combat boots. A leather banded watch rests on one wrist, a gold chain choker and her dog tags rest around her neck, drawing attention to her collar bones and chest, and matching rings decorate her hands.

This was an outfit Wraith went a bit crazy over. Something simple but a little more dressed up than Anita’s casual outfits. Maybe Anita was looking to tease a little bit, maybe work Wraith up a bit and get her to finish what she started earlier. Anita checks herself over in the mirror, a ringed hand running over the side of her neck where a bruise was made earlier from Wraith’s mouth.

Before she can linger much longer on it, the bathroom door is heard creaking open and Anita goes to open her mouth to tease Wraith about maybe going in a hoodie or something casual. But her breath is stolen from her the second she sees her girlfriend.

Wraith normally wore things that were more on the punk side or more covering when in situations like this. But today, Anita guesses, she’s trying to kill her.

Wraith dresses in a tight black dress with a low plunge neck to get an eyeful of her plentiful cleavage and floral lace full length sleeves. It pools almost to the floor with a long slit up her left leg nearly reaching her hip and exposing her soft skin and her own black boots. Her hair is tied up into a ponytail, her fringe swept to the side and two loose pieces of hair curling onto the sides of her face in their natural waves. Her makeup is done with a pitch-black matte lipstick on her lips and winged out eyeliner. A black velvet choker around her neck is only the icing on the cake for Anita.

The way the dress clings to her soft, filled out frame makes Anita swallow hard. Wraith can see how she looks at her, her eyes raking over her favorite ghost’s form. Wraith tries not to smirk, cocking her head to the side to show the expanse of her neck and watching Anita’s dark eyes slowly sliding up before she’s licking her full lips and she’s making a low whine in her throat. “When in the hell did you get this?”

“When Nat and I went out a few weeks ago,” Wraith starts, struggling not to laugh when Anita comes closer until her hands can slide up Wraith’s curves. She looks like a little puppy dog, or like Wraith was a present for her. Wraith can’t say she hates the attention this holds on her. “She said you would like it. Looks like she wasn’t wrong. Never is.”

“Remind me to thank her.” Anita sighs.

Wraith’s hands grab Anita’s wrists and slide them back down to the swell of her hips when they start to creep higher, resulting in a low whine from her poor, poor girlfriend who looks like she’s about to ditch the idea of the club all together. Wraith might be thinking the same thing, looking over the outfit Anita had on and picturing popping all those taunting buttons and tying her hands above her head so she’s just in her slacks and accessories. Maybe tie her to a chair...

They’re practically eye fucking each other. Wraith’s hands still stay around Anita’s wrists, holding them in place on her hips where Anita is squeezing her with flexes of her fingers. It’d be too easy to just back her against a wall, mouth at Anita’s neck until she got weak in the knees and fell to the floor.

We could taunt her.

Imagine how she’ll look looking at only us in a sea full of people.

Make her want us more.

Make her beg-

“Good?” Anita murmurs softly, dragging Wraith’s attention back to her face. It’s spoken quietly, a pointed look to Wraith’s once milky white gaze.

Wraith quirks her lips up, standing on her tiptoes and letting her soft painted lips press a kiss fondly to Anita’s jawline, the start of her marks for the night. “They’re fine. Nothing bad.”

It’s enough of a pause to let Wraith break away from her, much to Anita’s disappointment who whines and tries to follow after her. But a reminder of their plans is enough to get her to stop, even if it’s just because Wraith knows she’s looking at her ass when she turns around to bend over and make sure her boots are laced up.

Too easy.

A private driver picks them up to drop them off at the club. Wraith’s hand rests on Anita’s thigh near the entire drive, subtly squeezing whilst looking out the window and feeling how Anita’s muscles tense beautifully. She can feel her squirm when her hand inches up a bit more towards her inner thigh, squeezing and letting her gaze flicker over to Anita.

Anita herself looked so cute, her legs spread casually, her elbow resting on the side of the car with her mouth covered by her hand and her own gaze turned outside. Even in the dark, Wraith can see her blush from here and how Anita tries to play it cool. A squirm of her body, a clear of her throat, and trying to adjust her legs occasionally only for them to fall back open and prey to Wraith’s squeezing.

By the time they make it to ‘The Tipsy Bat’ nightclub, Anita’s already wound up. Something Wraith can tell just by how she exits the car and has to adjust herself before going and opening Wraith’s door. Always a gentleman.

It starts well enough. The club is huge and spacious, the lights sticking to a more pastel with some illuminating bats on the walls. The bar is off to the side, out of the way to allow easier access with the music sticking to a deeper bass instead of shrill. Natalie had recommended this club, explaining that it was easier on the eyes. She explained that she had her headphones on her just in case and that there were ‘quiet rooms’, making it easier to manage if she got overwhelmed.

Perfect for Anita. Sometimes too loud of bangs could startle her if she wasn’t ready or in the mindset for fighting. It could send her into overdrive, upsetting her enough that Wraith would need to find her a quiet place to ground her again. Just as too bright of lights could send Wraith into a panic if she wasn’t prepared for them.

Wraith goes to get them drinks from the bar, just water for herself, something stronger for Anita upon request. At the bar she keeps an eye out, casually leaning back against it and letting her eyes scan the scene.

Bodies press to each other on the dancefloor, people dancing with their friends or lovers. The music is a deeper, steady bass, perfect for something to grind to and people are abusing that. Her eyes scan farther, looking for Anita and finding her leaning against the wall she’d left her at but now with two girls on either side of her seeming to be talking her up. One twirling her long blonde braids and fluttering her lashes and clearly eyeing Anita up, the other girl leaning closer to her and doing that flirty little gesture of resting her hand on Anita’s bicep.

Anita clearly is trying to be polite, flashing a smile and clearly liking the attention. Wraith can’t blame the girls, nor Anita. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. Of course people wanted a piece of what was Wraith’s. Look at her. Such a handsome woman with her curls and her freckled, dimples smile. Her kind gaze and how when she laughed it was deep enough to rattle your chest from her smoky tone.

But she’s ours.

She knows she’s ours so what’s the harm?

Look at them- all over her. We should show them who she belongs to-

“Your drinks, ma’am.” The voice of the bartender makes Wraith blink a few times, turning her attention back to the bar and thanking them as she takes the two glasses. She feels like a predator as she slinks through the crowd, people parting as if they knew she was a woman on a mission as she approaches their area to set drinks on the table nearby Anita.

“-h my gosh, running around on that arena must be soooo hot! Do you get like, super sweaty?” Wraith catches one of the girls asking, a giggle in her voice and her teeth biting her bottom lip as she looks Anita up and down at the words ‘super sweaty’. Wraith is closer now, able to see how Anita rubs the back of her neck and offers a low chuckle.

“Yeah, of course. King’s canyon tends to run a bit hotter. But I’m hot blooded, ya know? Like it hot.” Anita answers, only resulting in both girls looking at each other with a knowing expression and one of them laughing a bit harder than necessary.

“Hot blooded! Oh my gosh, you are so funny!”

Wraith feels her own blood boil.

She creeps closer, silent like a ghost and making the two women jump in surprise when Wraith slides an arm around Anita’s waist and tucks her body against her. Her nails press lightly to Anita’s side, pressing nice and close to her and feeling satisfaction when Anita’s arm rests around her and gives a squeeze in greeting.

“I suggest you find another ‘funny’ girl. This one’s taken.” Wraith’s tone is icier than she intends. Unfortunately, it’s how most things came out of her mouth, rather flat without much tone indication. Her expression doesn’t help any either, her eyebrows not even so much as twitching.

When the girls trot off with half assed goodbyes and a nervous glance over Anita’s smaller companion, Wraith can’t help but huff a bit. Turning to bury her face into the side of Anita’s chest and growling a bit low in her throat. “I remember why it took us so long to date in the first place. You’re so oblivious.”

“Or maybe I just like seein’ ya jealous.” Anita teases back, squeezing her arm around Wraith and letting her hand brush up and down the curve of her side as if soothing an angered lion. “You look like a pissed off kitten. It’s cute.”

That might just seal Anita’s fate, and Wraith knows that Anita knows how Wraith feels about being treated as small. Her eyes flash dangerously up at her, seeing how Anita’s lips flicker into a little smirk because she knows. She knows what she’s said and done.

Wraith’s nails press into Anita’s side, curling her body around her until she can press her hand to the wall behind her, her other hand grabbing Anita’s jaw and drawing her attention down to Wraith.

Her baby blues trace over Anita’s face, down to her lips and then flickering back up to her eyes as she brings her close enough for their breath to mingle. “Watch it, Williams. I’m not against making an example out of you in front of everyone. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Even in the club, Wraith can see how Anita swallows, squirming when Wraith presses closer. Anita’s cocky expression falls quick when Wraith slides a thigh between hers, drawing Anita nice and close until her lips can press at the expanse of her neck. The hiss falling from her fall lips of embarrassment is worth it alone, but it’s even more worth it when Wraith sucks hard on the side of her neck to leave a bruise.

Anita knows better than to draw attention by yelping, but that doesn’t stop her from hissing Wraith’s name and squeezing her waist until Wraith is satisfied with the bruise. Letting Anita stand up as Wraith quirks one corner of her lips up in a smirk. “Try not to let another girl get all over you.”

Should find them and ask if they want to watch her-

Watch her get fucked by us.

Show them who does it better.

Bet they were pillow princesses anyway.

Wouldn’t know how to touch her like we do.

She wants us.

She likes when we’re mad.

“And if I don’t?” Anita breathes, leaning back on the wall as a pastel pink light zooms by her face, highlighting the darkness on her cheeks. Her legs are still lightly spread, still staying right where Wraith put her. A good girl.

“I’ll do worse than just give you a hickey. Maybe they’d like to receive a video of what a good girl you are for me on your knees.” Wraith’s voice is just as icy as it always is. Quirking a brow at Anita and waiting for a quip back, but all she gets in return is a low whine.

Once settled down again, Wraith offers Anita her drink to sip on before they go and dance. A precaution to down your drink before ever letting it out of your sight even for a moment.

Anita doesn’t dance, that’s what she says always to Wraith with a roll of her eyes as she’s bringing her to the dancefloor. They both know it’s a lie. If anything, Wraith didn’t dance. But she’d seen Anita dance plenty. Swaying her hips in the kitchen when cooking, bouncing her body to rhythms that hypnotized Wraith often into coming up behind her to wrap her arms around her while she swayed.

Wraith knew dances, but whether she knew them from another life or this path knew it, she still wasn’t sure. She knew belly dances, rhythms in which her hips and abdomen were your focal point. Things she taunted Anita with that made her whine and strain against bonds and huffing about how much she wanted to touch Wraith. Always an ego booster.

Even on the dancefloor now, it takes Wraith more time to unwind as they move together to the deep bass and flashing pastel lights. Anita’s hands keep sliding over Wraith’s body, squeezing over her soft curves and the plumpness of her hips. Wraith can’t even argue that she’s not doing the same thing, feeling over Anita’s strong arms and the much sharper, built waist of hers.

It gets to the point where Wraith’s breath is catching whenever Anita’s hands slide over her body. Ending up dragging Wraith to her, with her back to her chest where her hands can slide up and over Wraith’s body as she reaches behind to grip at Anita where she can. Wraith’s face is flush, warmed when Anita’s head dips, pressing hungry kisses to her neck and down her shoulder and hearing the quieted moan from her lips when she inhales Wraith’s scent.

Wraith’s hips grind backwards absentmindedly into Anita’s that are starting to dry hump against her ass. The swell of her ass being a perfect thing for Anita to grind into as her hands fall to her round hips and draw her closer back. One of Wraith’s hands grabs the back of Anita’s neck at her nape, her fingers teasing up the velvety shaved sides as Anita’s teeth press into the side of her neck and make Wraith whine low in her throat.

They’re practically dry humping on the dancefloor. Not that anyone pays them any mind like anyone else. It takes all of her strength for Wraith to break them apart and not just stake her claim in public. Taking Anita’s hand and rushing them through the crowd and straight for the private bathroom. Wraith is quick to lock it behind them, walking Anita back against the sink and grabbing the front of her button up to tug her down until their lips can hungrily press together.

The sound Anita makes is worth it alone with the way she moans into Wraith’s mouth, her hands coming to grip Wraith’s hips and draw her close until she can fit her body against hers. Sliding her thigh between Anita’s parted legs where she eagerly starts to grind against it.

There are hungry hands sliding up each other’s bodies, Anita’s hands grabbing at Wraith’s ass and pressing her closer, sliding up her curves and grabbing at where she can. Wraith is no better, undoing the buttons on Anita’s shirt with hunger and untucking it. Her hands slide up her strong form, over her abs and up to her braless chest where Wraith grabs and squeezes just as her teeth sink into Anita’s bottom lip.

“Let me taste you,” Wraith breathes against Anita’s lips, drawing her pierced tongue over Anita’s lips in a playful flick that makes her moan. “I’ll make it quick.” It’s spoken in a hushed tone, breathy as their breath mingles and Anita keeps making the prettiest little sounds in her throat.

A nod is all Wraith needs before her hands are going down to Anita’s belt, quickly working it out of its loops as she starts to kiss down her torso. Leaving heavy black prints from her lips. Wraith makes sure to leave her mark, still not quite satisfied about the girls from earlier. Making sure to bite down and suck on Anita’s skin over her abdomen and hips, paying special attention to the part just above the elastic of her Apex branded briefs.

Anita’s already wet, shown by the darker gray on her crotch. Wraith can’t help but bury her face there against her as she pulls her pants down to mid-thigh, inhaling her scent and hearing Anita laugh above her in an embarrassed fashion. "O c’mon, Ghostie-”

“I like the way you smell.” Wraith murmurs honestly, nosing at the wet spot and moaning low in her throat at the deep scent of sex. “You smell so good...” It’s spoken with a sigh as her tongue drags along the fabric.

But she can’t help herself any longer, hooking her fingers in Anita’s briefs and dragging the elastic down to rest on her pants and exposing her cunt. She takes her time teasing, biting and sucking her way around her inner thighs to leave more and more bruises.

Always so pretty when she’s covered in marks, Wraith thinks. With her dark curls and her smaller lower lips all exposed and glistening from wetness. It only takes Wraith’s hand pressing on her mound to expose her clit, engorged and shiny. Her plump lips seal around it immediately, suckling and letting her tongue do all the talking for her in broad swipes. Paying special attention to letting her piercing flick off the tip and making Anita’s hips jerk.

Anita’s hands grip the sink, pressing her body back into it and gripping onto it for dear life as her head falls forward. Wraith looks up under her lashes, spying how her brow furrows, her teeth biting into her bottom lip to stay quiet even as her hips helplessly try to hump against Wraith’s mouth.

Wraith makes a show of licking up her slickness, from hole to clit and nosing her way against her. She makes sure she moans into her, letting Anita know just how much she loved her taste and scent. It does the job just fine, making Anita’s cheek turn rosy red and her head rolling to the side with a sharp whimper.

Wraith’s hands slide up the back of Anita’s legs, grabbing handfuls of her muscular ass and forcing her to hold her hips still and tilted forward. It provides a good angle for Wraith to mercilessly trace her tongue against her clit, writing her name around it as her nails press into her flesh. Only one thought on her mind with each trace.

Mine.

When Anita cums, it’s with one of her hands clinging to the sink and the other slamming over her mouth as her beautiful cries become muffled. Wraith drinks her down, licking greedily at her slickness and feeling each contract of her cunt with every skim of her tongue. She doesn’t stop licking until Anita’s legs are quaking and she’s murmuring incoherently behind her hand in a frantic way with each strained twitch of her hips.

When Wraith finally stops, she kisses over Anita’s marked thighs where the bruises from her teeth are and scratches from her nails. Just as greedily, she leaves another one near the delicious V shaped markings from the muscles on Anita’s hips. Making sure the bruise is nice and dark despite the whines of protests above her.

By the time Wraith finally stops marking her, she’s standing up and seeing how Anita’s legs shake and her head falls back. Can you really blame Wraith for reaching into her bag to snap a photo of her? The flash makes Anita groan, turning her head to the side with a heavy flush on her face and a huff. “D’ya have to take a picture, really?”

“You always said I should document the things I like.” Wraith practically purrs back, looking down at the developed photo in delight. In it you could see Anita just as beautiful and satisfied as she is now. Covered in lipstick marks and bite marks, her pussy glistening with a thin string of wetness drooling towards her thighs. Her pussy has smears of her lipstick, especially circling her clit. It almost makes Wraith go back on her knees, eager to lick her through another orgasm.

Thankfully for Anita, all Wraith wants is a picture and checking in on her. Helping her back into her clothes, despite her slightly disheveled appearance now while Wraith pauses to reapply her lipstick in the mirror. She can practically feel the hearts fluttering off Anita with the way she looks at her, especially when Anita comes and hugs her from behind, burying her face against Wraith’s neck for the comfort she always seeks after an orgasm.

When they finally make it back out into the club to start dancing again, it doesn’t take very long for hands to start wandering again and for Anita to start grinding against her. By then it’s a rush to call their driver outside with Anita squirming next to Wraith and her not doing much better. Hard to be behaved when your handsome girlfriend is covered in your kiss marks and bite marks and her body still has that healthy glow of ‘just had an orgasm’.

Even the car ride is tense, sexual tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Wraith’s sure the driver notices, but thankfully they don’t say anything but for them to have a nice night as the two women race into their hotel to get to the elevator. Where once more, they’re handsy and needy, Wraith’s lipstick left lingering on Anita’s lips even as they race down the hall to get to their room.

By the time they finally get inside, shoes are kicked off, bags thrown to the side, and hands are frantic to get on one another. For once, Anita gets the upper hand, managing to scoop Wraith up to throw her onto the bed like it’s their wedding night and she’s about to get her first taste of her.

No words are exchanged despite their combined snarky nature normally wanting them to. Anita’s soft, full lips press over Wraith’s, fitting her body until Wraith’s plush thighs are hugged around her waist and her dress is being shimmied up her body to make way for Anita’s wandering hands. Her calloused hands slide up Wraith’s dress, over her soft skin and over a few raised scars. Dragging her nails back down towards her hips to make her squirm underneath her.

Wraith can hardly breathe between the heavy kisses, the slides of their tongues and the light click of teeth. Her hands frantically work on Anita’s buttons, rolling her hips upwards and managing to get her shirt open and free so she can reach up to cup at her breasts and roll the hardened nipples between kisses. This results in Anita’s hips humping against her in slow grinds, her kisses becoming breathy and more of her lips parted to sigh in pleasure. Plenty of room for Wraith to lick at her tongue.

It takes just a single adjustment of Wraith’s leg slipping between Anita’s instead for her to crack. Anita’s hips helplessly hump against her thigh, her low moan reverberating in Wraith’s mouth and only reminding her just of how wet she was. And it takes just that moment of weakness for Wraith to roll them over and slam Anita’s hands above her head, fingers intertwined with hers.

Wraith straddles her lap just like Anita likes. Sitting up and parting their lips and smirking when Anita grunts in annoyance and tightens her grip on Wraith’s hands. “Wraith-”

“Anita.”

Anita’s brow furrows at the simple tone, meanwhile clearly embarrassed at how disheveled she sounds in turn. Wraith liked it that way. Loving seeing her warm freckled cheeks turn dark red and seeing that grumpy little look on her face yet pure desire racing through her eyes when her eyes drag over Wraith’s form.

Anita squirms underneath her, pushing at Wraith’s arms- something she could easily overpower Wraith in. But when Wraith simply pushes back, quietly telling Anita to stay down without words, her arms stay right where she’s holding them.

Though Anita was physically stronger, she knew who was really the top dog around here.

“There’s my pretty girl. You wanna be my good girl tonight, hm?” Wraith’s voice comes out silken and low, just how Anita liked it. It’s without needing to say does she move her hands from Anita’s, moving off her lap briefly to begin stripping her completely. Carefully unbuttoning and working Anita’s pants and briefs off until she’s naked and squirming under Wraith’s gaze.

Her rings and watch are gingerly taken off with loving hands from Wraith, set to the side and out of the way with all that’s left on her being her chains and dog tags. A look that never fails to make Wraith sigh at her whilst Anita grunts under her now in embarrassment, even with her legs parted with Wraith between them and her body exposed for the umpteenth time with her.

Wraith sighs at her lovingly once again, running her hands along Anita’s thighs and taking in the sight of the prior bruises and lipstick marks left on her. Including the smear of black across her lips from the make out session just held. All marked and hers.

“Can I tie you up tonight?” Wraith starts softly, tracing her nails up Anita’s sides to make her squirm as she chirps out a ‘yes’ in return with an enthusiastic head nod. “Can I record us for later?” Another nod the head, a little shier. If shy was even in Anita’s vocabulary. “You remember your safe words and signals, handsome?”

After a brief clarification and making sure everything was fine, from there it’s tying Anita up. Tying her lying down with her arms above her head tied to the headboard. It’s a minimal tie, not elaborate like Wraith normally liked, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

A click of Wraith’s camera is heard and a whine from Anita follows as Wraith pulls away the camera to see the photo with a small smile on her face. The calm before the storm- even if Anita was already quite marked up. “I needed a ‘before’ picture.”

“You’re an ass.” Anita huffs back, squirming against the red rope when Wraith stalks towards her again. A cold hand inching up her thigh and making Anita instinctively spread her strong legs open. It exposes her cunt, her inner lips blossoming open like a flower and showing her already engorged clit still circled with black lipstick from earlier. Beautiful.

Click.

“Wraith!!!”

Wraith can’t help the chuckle that leaves her, setting her camera to the side finally and crooning. “Can’t help it that you’re so handsome covered in my mark, sweetheart. Can you really blame me for wanting to capture this moment? Thought you wanted me to take pictures of what I loved.”

“If you don’t hurry up and get your ass over here, I’m gonna break these bonds and show you what you’re missing from just pictures, ghostie. I ain’t an art exhibit.” Anita huffs, clearly embarrassed as she arches her back in a beautiful arch and pulls on the ropes. Wraith smirks, setting the camera on the nightstand next to the tablet which she opens up and angles at the bed. Doing it quick so Anita wouldn’t get too squirmy.

It’s Wraith’s turn to strip out of her dress, letting it pull to the ground and hooking her thumbs under her black lace panties and pulling them off nice and slow to make Anita’s mouth salivate at the sight of her. Wraith makes sure to do it with her back facing her, bending over to unhook it from around her ankle just to hear Anita’s whine at the sight of her ass.

When Wraith turns back around, her breath can’t help but catch at the way Anita hungrily looks at her. Her full lips are already parted and inviting, her eyes moving down Wraith’s body to rest on her cunt where black, soft hair rests and a peek of her large clit from her lower lips, with a thin line of hair up Wraith’s abdomen in a happy trail. Her legs were just as soft with hair, something Anita always made a sight of enjoying by nosing at her thighs and calves.

From there, Wraith sets up the harness and strap on. A thick cock that was red and ribbed with beautiful texture and a tapered tip. The base was black, marbling into the shaft and all in all looking akin to a dragon. Big enough Wraith couldn’t circle her fingers around it anywhere but the head. Just like she liked to feel. She also makes sure a vibrator presses inside the harness, turning it on low to begin so Anita would only get squirmy and nothing more.

“You wanna beg for it?” Wraith hums as she approaches the bed, making sure to grab the harness and strap on. The bed creaking under her weight as she pulls herself onto it to first attach the harness to Anita, delighting in her light gasp and roll of her hips at the light vibrations.

Then Wraith moves to straddle her waist, hovering just above her to ensure that Anita didn’t even get the delight of her wetness. Anita grunts, her lips parting and a furrow to her brow, but Wraith catches her quick before she can quip back at her. Gripping her jaw and guiding her eyes back to Wraith’s with a low growl leaving her. “Wasn’t really asking you, Princess.”

Anita was a bit of a struggle when getting her into a sub headspace. It took a bit of pushing, coaxing, and equal amounts of praise until she gave Wraith that look. Even now with her arms tied above her head and her eyes half lidded, Wraith can see how she struggles to keep her control. How she steels her jaw and clenches her teeth.

It takes Wraith leaning in a bit closer, her breath mingling with Anita’s due to their closeness and their noses brushing. “Beg for it.” Growling from Wraith’s lips before Anita finally lets that breath go and her eyes flutter. And Wraith knows she has her then.

“Please,” Anita breathes, her lips parting and her head tilting to chase after Wraith’s lips when she leans back a bit. “Please let me taste you, please ride my face, please- fuck, baby, you smell so good-”

Her whining is successful. Just what Wraith wants to hear.

She pulls herself up, putting one soft thigh on each side of Anita’s head and threading her fingers into the thick curls atop her head to guide her. When Anita’s tongue slides across her and her full lips seal around her clit, it’s Wraith’s turn to whine. Making sure to grip her curls at the root, Wraith holds her head still so she can hump her hips down against her mouth, delighting in how Anita moans and her hands flex above her head, a beautiful expression overtaking her face.

Her dark eyes look up at Wraith half lidded and clouded with lust, her eyebrows knitted and her lips obediently sealed around her large clit to Wraith could practically fuck her face. Smearing her wetness over her lips, her chin, probably spilling down her chin as well. Wraith couldn’t wait to see her ruined.

“That’s my good girl,” Wraith shakily exhales, her gaze turned down towards Anita to see just how well she licks her clean when her hips hold still. Wraith’s thighs shake with each lick, each spelling of Anita’s name over her clit with a distinct flick at the ending of each ‘A’ spelled. When Wraith tugs her hair, Anita goes right back obediently to sealing her lips around her clit, taking whatever Wraith gives her no matter how hard her hips hump.

When Wraith cums, it’s with a breathy, frantic noise falling into a moan. With a tighter grip in Anita’s hair and her back arched, her thighs trembling as Anita licks her through it with her own moans spilling from her lips. Wraith knew she lived for her taste, knowing just how much Anita got off on getting her off.

When satisfied, Wraith sits up higher to get away from the onslaught, pulling Anita’s hair just like she liked to force her head back and for Wraith to see her. She looked beautiful with slickness smeared across her now glossy lips, dribbling down her chin and how Anita’s half lidded eyes look so hungrily up at her.

“Look at you. Such a pretty little thing, hm? Obedient.” Wraith croons. Putting emphasis on her last word to test Anita’s restraint right now- how deep she was in sub headspace.

A fire is lit up in her eyes, but she doesn’t talk back. A good sign, Wraith thinks, as she releases her hair and makes her way down Anita’s body. The vibrator’s controller is carefully turned up to a medium speed, making the soldier underneath her arch off the bed and tug on her rope with a cry and her hips rolling upwards. It makes the thick cock bob with each roll, a sight that makes Wraith drool.

“C’mon, j-just get on with it. I know you want it.” Anita breathes out, trying her best to sound grounded and not as drooly as she looks. Wraith quirks a brow at her, grabbing the lube from the nightstand to work onto the strap, using her other arm to hold down Anita’s hips. It does the trick in making her let out a frustrated sound, only able to clutch at the ropes and bask in her own labored breathing without a single peep from Wraith.

Anita still keeps trying to get a rise out of her, even as Wraith takes her time lubing her up. “Ya want my cock, baby? Want to be full?” Her voice is low, her eyes purposeful when Wraith glances up at her. She’s still got glossy lips, still covered in bite marks, and she’s trying to get a rise out of Wraith, hm?

Gag her.

Shut her up.

Better things to do with her mouth.

Not a bad idea. One that Wraith takes in stride as she plucks her pretty lacy black panties from the bed and sits up, gripping Anita’s jaw and forcing her mouth open with a press of her thumb. She slips the panties in, pressing down on Anita’s tongue and smiling all too sweetly at her. “That’s better. You’re cuter when you’re quiet.” Being spoken with a light, loving pat of her hand on Anita’s flushed, freckled cheek.

Carefully, Wraith sits back on her hips and guides Anita’s dragon styled cock into herself. There’s always a bit of a sting in the stretch, but she kind of liked the pain of it. Absentmindedly, she reaches up towards her styled hair, pulling it from its ponytail and shaking her ebony locks free as the waves spill down onto her shoulders.

The look Anita gives her is reward enough, with her eyebrows knitted and her eyes looking up at her pleadingly with her mouth full of Wraith’s panties. Her fingers twitch above her head, her back straining like she wanted to touch her so bad. Wraith only hums, pretending she doesn’t notice Anita’s whining and whimpers as she eases herself down inch by agonizing inch with little shimmies of her hips.

By the time she’s finally fully seated, sans the more knotted base, she groans like she’s stretching oh so casually forward. Hooking her fingers around Anita’s jaw like she’s about to kiss her when she leans forward, only to forcefully turn her head to remind her of the tablet sitting on the nightstand recording them perfectly all the way down to Anita’s knees.

“Nnh-” Is the only sound Anita can make, a high-pitched whine as her eyes flicker over the screen with her face burning red. Her dark eyes linger lower on the screen where Wraith grinds and bounces her hips on her cock, moaning directly into Anita’s ear and making her eyes roll back with each bounce. Each bounce forcing the vibrator to press directly to her clit, each grind forcing it against her, each breath from Wraith driving her closer and closer.

Wraith knew just how to push Anita’s buttons. Her lips mouthing at the lobe of her ear and lightly nipping, glancing to the side to see how Anita still helplessly watches the screen with flutters of her eyes. She knows Anita is close already, her breathing starting to get labored through her nose and her body trying to fuck up into Wraith with each grind downwards of her hips to fill her up.

“That’s it- good girl, you gonna cum, hm?” Wraith moans in Anita’s ear, ghosting her lips over the shell of her ear and down her lobe. The noise Anita makes is strained and needy, a high pitched ‘mmh!’ and her eyes rolling back into her head as her eyes unfocus from the screen. Her fingers flex on the ropes above her head, her lashes fluttering and her hips jumping as she begins to cum.

“Keep watching,” Wraith hisses low in Anita’s ear, watching her teary gaze turn back towards the screen to see herself cum. Wraith can only imagine the embarrassment coursing through her having to watch herself helplessly cum and hear herself whimper. Wraith can feel each jump of her hips, forcing the cock deeper into her and making her own breath hitch.

From there, Wraith bounces her hips with hisses in Anita’s ear of, “Don’t take your eyes off me.” “You wish you could fuck me, hm? Wish you could make me moan like you did?” “Such a good girl. That’s my princess, let me hear you.”

Anita responds positively to each one, her eyes rolling back into her head upon her second orgasm and Wraith chasing that high with her as she cums again. Making sure to sink her teeth into Anita’s neck to silence her own whimpering and once complete, she pats downwards until she can turn off the vibrator to silence Anita’s over-sensitive sounds.

The panties are removed from Anita’s mouth, a gentle kiss pressed over her lips and the rope removed from her. Another kiss is shared, then another, then Anita chasing after Wraith’s lips with a soft sound in her throat when she dodges to kiss her cheek instead with a gentle ‘shh’ falling from Wraith’s lips.

Aftercare is to be had after turning off the tablet and saving the video. Wraith makes sure to clean Anita up, carefully applying salve to any bruises on her wrists and massaging her hands where she’d flexed them too hard. Even softer kisses are pressed to each bite mark, carefully wiping off lingering lipstick anywhere and Wraith’s voice gently asking if Anita wanted a shower.

Carefully they make their way to the shower with Anita getting in first and Wraith taking the time to wash off her makeup in the mirror. She ties her hair up loosely with a clip to prevent it from getting wet, entering the shower to see how drunken in love Anita’s eyes are when she reaches for her to drag her close to her body. Her taller body preventing the spray from hitting Wraith and instead pounding on her back.

“Hey,” Anita softly murmurs, her voice hoarse and quiet from earlier.

“Hey,” Wraith murmurs back just as soft, pressing a kiss to her collarbone fondly.

They embrace each other in the warm water for a bit, just lightly swaying and spending close intimacy together. Wraith always liked to be close, letting her fingers trace mindless shapes into Anita’s strong back with water dripping down her fingertips. Taking particular interest in a scar on her lower back that makes Anita hum soft and quiet into Wraith’s hair.

“Dropship picks us up tomorrow,” Anita murmurs with a kiss to Wraith’s head when she hums back in disapproval. “Hey, don’t complain. I’m sure ya miss bein’ able to hunt me down.”

“Mmmh.” Wraith hums back, nosing her way against the top of Anita’s breast instead and letting her hands slide back down to her ass to grab it. It makes Anita choke on a small chuckle, even as Wraith sighs back. “Don’t get this much privacy in the showers, though.”

“Thought you liked being a lil’ exhibitionist?”

Wraith huffs out a laugh, turning her head to press her warming cheeks to Anita’s body at being caught.

From there it’s quiet care. Cleaning up each other with Anita being mainly focused on, working out her tense muscles and rubbing her down with expensive soap. Wraith takes her time on her, murmuring apologies for covering her in her lipstick and getting murmured replies back that it was fine. Gentle hands ensuring no dirt left, and even afterwards Wraith still urges Anita back into her arms to hold each other under the warm spray again.

By the time they get out and clothed into pajamas, the hologram clock reads a blaring 4:00 A.M in red lettering. Anita groans, but that’s quickly remedied by them climbing into bed and Wraith drawing Anita’s head to her chest to gently begin stroking along her shaved sides.

Wraith sighs to herself once Anita is soon fast asleep, her breathing even and calm with her breath fanning across Wraith’s chest. They'd go back to the compound, get settled back in and the new season for the Apex Games would start in a week’s time.

And one day...

Wraith turns her gaze down to Anita, smiling softly down at her.

One day they could forget the games and start a life of their own together.

#Voidstrike #Bangawraith #apex lemons #apex legends #Bangalore #Wraith #Bangalore x Wraith #nsft #lemon #princess writing #commissions

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jksangelic · 5 years ago

Text

heaven’s winter (m)

RATING: M

GENRE: fantasy, fluff, smut, a hint of a soulmate au, light angst

PAIRING: village daughter!reader x seraph!yoongi (alternatively, an “angel”)

WARNINGS/TAGS: lots of overthinking/past angst regarding both reader and yoongi separately (yoongi especially), tae is involved as an important plot side character but he’s barely in there i’m sorry, surprise aggression from yoongi because u get in his personal space, slow burn smut but the smut is nice and flavorful, explicit sexual content, body worship, oral sex (female receiving), virgin!reader, clumsy cute smut uwu, unprotected sex (wrap it up pls), several positions, unintentional temperature play?, lots of love and respect up in this house and lots of other things i probably forgot.

also i wrote a lot for the intro you can skim idc lmao.

SUMMARY: your duty as the village daughter places you in line for the season’s Offering; a tradition not to tread lightly upon. as the snow falls slow and heavy, and the seraph awaits in the shallows of the mountain, you fail to realize what the winter has in store for you.

WORD COUNT: 18,600

NOTE: welcome to my slice of the Fantastical Stories for Curious Souls Collaboration!

it’s always really an honor to be able to work with other writers and i’m really grateful that they allowed my butting-in )))): thank you all!!! make sure to check out everyone’s stories in the link above and let us know what you think!

(uhhh i just..... i spent way too much time on research and the politics behind this fic for it to still be aLL oVer tHe plaCe but please cut me some slack. might i throw in that this has no religious/cultural affiliation and instead has more of a fantastical theme to it that is entirely fictional. especially for the concept of the Offering and how i loosely throw around the word “angel” and “heaven” and etc.)

((might i add that i recently discovered that i am *terrible* at describing geography and am totally basing it off of video-game visuals........ cough cough zeldabreathofthewild))

(((this last one’s kinda important!!!!: yoongi is described to be larger than you bc he’s this magical bird being. i always try to keep reader insert broad in description but if you’re taller than irl yoongi boongi, pssst, you’re not in this universe sorry but i make the rules)))

((((this is currently unedited. @14statelier get to work.))))

Part One

The snow falls slow and thick. The children catching it on their tongues and compacting it to shoot at each other, screaming and wailing all the same as it continues to pile. It fell particularly early this time around, normally nothing more than cold bitter to the skin and clouds stirring prediction of the oncoming winter. You were always a heavy sleeper despite the beauty of first frost, long past your days of childish amazement through fogged windows and warm fires but you watched the icy cotton substance pile since dawn this morning. Not even drowsiness will overrun your excitement for the day ahead.

“You light three incense and make sure they burn all the way through before you turn around,” Taehee states.

“Find some stones on your way. Use them to hold the tapestry down as you set up. It looks especially windy today,” Mina adds.

Yoona finishes tucking your hair back rather tightly, “You should stop by Jin’s and pick up some extra bread. You know he’ll give you some of his fresh batch if you asked for it.”

You suppose, not even the nagging of your aunts.

You chew on your fingers, a nervous habit. Taehee pulls your slobbered index from your lips with a wrinkled forehead, “You better remember this, dear. You only have to do it once but if you do it right, it’ll be worth much more.”

You recite drearily, “Follow the path, set up the altar, say our prayers, return home.”

“Once the incense is out, Y/N. You mustn’t forget.”

“And you cannot explore the manor. Don’t walk around. Don’t look through the windows—”

“It’s a manor? How big do you suppose?” you ask with newfound interest to your words.

“That doesn’t matter, girl. You don’t wander. You don’t explore. You do what is told of you and nothing more. What matters is that you don’t spot a seraph, and that the seraphs don’t spot you.”

You never understood that rule. If the seraph tribe was so kind as to help your country win a rather one-sided war, then why the invisible boundary? To be in alliance and never interact was an odd sense of unity to you, if any. “Have you ever seen a seraph? Is it true they have two sets of wings?” You’d always been curious to the subject, a fairytale-like existence just waiting below the peak.

“The elders claim they do. A large and small set. Some say it’s necessary for having human proportions. You know, they say it’s bad luck to stare at a seraph’s wings. ” Mina says in awe in correspondence to the way she suffocates you with your robe’s sash.

You swat her away, forcing down a smile, “I don’t believe that, you haven’t even seen one! How do you even know they exist!”

“Hush! You’ll get into some real trouble if an elder catches you saying that. They exist. And they live up the mountain. And you will do the Offering with utmost delicacy and respect. Besides, you’re the only one coming-of-age this year! A girl to do it by herself is surely something the leaders will appraise of you.” You avoid their scrutinous, expectant gazes.

You could say you’ve been cursed at birth. Weak in basic skills in which an adult, regardless of age, is identified by. You lacked time management and a sense of direction, you harbored a bad habit of looking down when you spoke, you couldn’t even wash the dishes without chipping a glass. Your legs worked against you at random times, quite literally tripping you up and deeming you as a clumsy, pitiful thing. As you grew older, the only skills you were able to contribute were to the fields, where things were organic and didn’t require fragility.

“I am not as useless as you think of me,” the words come out unprompted but true and exposed.

The women gawk and babble like hens in a flurry of angered denial or soft apologies but you no longer have time to discuss unimportant matters.

In the midst, rough, giant hands encase your face. You don’t realize you’re looking to the floor until Taehyung props your chin upwards, met with smiling eyes and an ear-to-ear grin. His name rolls off your tongue in surprise.

“Hey, don’t start moping before you even start. It really isn’t a big deal. You hike all the way up to the riverbank more than the others and that’s a long way. This is no different. And think, when you come home everyone will come to realize how much they’ve missed you! Me included.”

“It’s not that I’m…” You start haphazardly. Well, it’s not that you’re reluctant to do the Offering. To adventure otherwise prohibited land and by yourself, to prove that you can handle life just fine and don’t need to be seared by the judgement of deploring eyes. Some time to enjoy solitary peace. It wasn’t even a whole day, dammit, but you’ll take what you can get. You choose to lie, “I guess I am a bit nervous. I’ll make sure to pace myself. Besides, I’d run myself short if I finished in half-a-day like you.”

Tae puffs, a little proud of himself, “What can I say… I’d like for the little ones to look up to me.” You roll your eyes, scanning your bed for your scarf. Taehyung eyes the cloth as you wrap it around, a rare moment of quiet. He stares, entranced, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so focused. As you think about inquiring his statue-like manner, you notice that more of the silence is due to the disappearance of the squawking hens. Those sly, evil matchmakers.

You suddenly pull him along and towards the exit, “You can’t be in here. You’ll get us in trouble.”

He blinks dumbly and slumps against your ministrations. “Your aunts seemed to be fine with it. And it’s not like I haven’t snuck in your window a few… several times.”

Your expressed sheepishness is his favorite source of entertainment, “Goodness, as kids! You make it sound so rebellious.” He winks as if you share a grand secret, all to his imagination of course.

Taehyung, on the other hand, was the village’s be-all and end-all. Born to work and carry everyone else on his back. He stands tall with his shoulders wide and prominent, chestnut waves that reached his cheekbones now. Shirt tight around his torso in ways that could excite anyone that risked a glimpse. You can’t help but find it amazing how much of a crybaby he was when you were young and how sturdy and dependable he is now. He was humorously your polar opposite.

You try to shoo him once more, “Anyways. I’m getting ready and you can’t see me. Go wait with everyone else!” His pout is jarring paired with his hard, strong build. Like a teddy bear with abs and palm blisters from years of physical labor.

His body moves on his own at some point, reluctantly reaching for your door handle, “No parting kiss upon my cheek, fair lady?”

It’s obvious he’s being more daring these days. With frequent visits and gifts on your doorstep, and now requested kisses. The whole town knew you were likely to marry him, a relief for most. But on your hand, you’ve just known him for so long. Practically since you were born. You’ve already shared kisses, you’ve already had those butterflies in your stomach; but the kisses were stolen in secret and the butterflies were stagnant. And although it was never a consistent nor official courting, you felt as though Taehyung was already a route taken. You know better to never admit that into the air, though. Not when everyone expected your cooperation with marriage at the least. To care for someone so special, and to bear his children plump and healthy.

What a static life to live, you try not to think. You instead try to blame such thinking on your inferiority complex, to at least ease some of that horrible guilt in your stomach. You should be grateful for your life. Talentless yet adored. A village princess that was easy on the eyes and sought after by those looking for that beauty and its accompanied dowry.

A proposal was near, that much you could tell with his efforts. In his perspective, the sooner the better lest he want someone else to steal you from him. Contradictory to your own reasoning, the only relief you find is that it is him, your dearest friend. Perhaps the only one to disregard your shortcomings and want to fill your empty spaces as much as he can. He cared about you and that could be enough. So you try to convince yourself of that.

You kiss his cheek softly and without hesitation. Not so much as a blush. He suspects nothing less than mutual adoration and takes his leave like you request, leaving you alone in silence for a relieving twenty seconds. Then the hens come back inside and squabble about who will be able to sew together your future gown.

Part Two

It starts under the old pine tree on the far side of the village. A crowd gathers as you wait under the swaying branches, mutters and looks of excitement apparent. A cleric waits beside you with three elder women who prepare your things: a woven satchel loaded with the items that you are to lay out, things like dried flowers, fruits, fine wines, tapestries, collected crystals, baked goods and the incense. A replica display of what little the humans had presented at the foot of the seraphs. Untouchable beings with class and power much above your own. Kindness as well, so it seems; to be provided with just this and offer unparalleled assistance to a hopeless cause in the old wars. You wondered if they still watched from afar, curious to the well-being of their mortal neighbors.

"Dear, keep your mind with us. You'll be off shortly," one of the grandmas whisper, placing a carved selenite athame into a leather holster and slipping it into the confines of your robe, "For protection." You smile and thank her kindly, tuning back into the ceremony and waiting for the second elder. They continue to adorn you in charms and traveling goodies, eventually piling on unnecessary weight that will, for sure, slow you down in the process. The trek was basically a day’s trip. If you moved efficiently, you should be home no later than when the sun begins to set, in time for supper even. As much as you’d like to stay out longer, you dare not risk a night in the mountains.

“—this year’s representative will be just as prosperous. May she bring good fortune and health onto our town just as the many before her has done so,” the old cleric roars into the audience, just about finishing his speech as you start to listen. You hope he didn’t say anything too significant. Can’t possibly hang on to every dry word when you were so close to tasting temporary freedom.

You make your way into the parted sea of people, some who grip your hand as you walk by to invoke strength as you move along. A few grumble good luck’s and come back safe’s. Then an angry baker charging through helpless bodies.

“Take this, you stupid girl. You were supposed to stop by the bakery this morning,” Seokjin whines, thrusting what seems to be a warm pastry wrapped with cheesecloth into your hands.

“Thank—Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to bug…”

Jungkook pops in from nowhere, hitting your shoulder a little too playfully, “Chin up, love. Don’t be back too soon.” You nod shyly as he distances behind. Jungkook always had a strong nose for your facades but he also always kept your secrets. Clutching your things tightly, you watch your boots as they pick up speed through the mess of attention.

“Good luck!”

“Watch your surroundings, little one.”

“Come home and don’t wander off!”

You leave northbound until you no longer hear their cheers. Until the snow no longer has indented prints and you think you’re alone and off to the races. A sudden tension snaps when you release your sore cheeks from an artificial smile, not even aware you were sporting one in the first place. There was always a heavy pressure when you presented yourself to the public, and while you were no damn princess, everyone ensured that you at least feel the looming responsibility of one. Curse your family’s political ties and all that, otherwise you wouldn’t give a damn if you seemed like an old witch spotted once in a blue moon.

When you reach the border gate is when you see Taehyung for the last time today. It comes as a surprise to see him waiting for you like a loyal dog, dark hair sprinkled with snowflakes, red cheeks a striking contrast against the bright setting. If you were more grateful, you’d think he looks particularly good today. If anything, it strikes you more that you failed to see his face at the send-off.

“Hey. I didn’t want to do this in front of everyone else… and today of all days but if I don’t right now, I don’t think I ever will,” he jumbles. In his hands hold a scarlet scarf, the same one you had seen as a child when his mom would occasionally take care of you, let you help bake, and playfully dress you in her accessories. All but that scarf, folded neatly and tucked into a corner or her closet.

“Oh! Don’t touch that, love,” she said, “That’s something my mother-in-law made for me.”

You had pouted then, a spoiled brat of sorts. But Taehyung’s mother’s eyes were always warm and she spoke softer than cashmere, “I have to give that to my son when he decides to marry. Will you make sure he finds the right one, for me? You are his best friend, aren’t you?”

You remember the challenge you felt, yelling without hesitation, “Taetae will marry me! When we grow up I’ll be his bride and you won’t have to worry!”

She giggled in contentment, eyes squinted in a wide smile and petting you lovingly, “Ah, of course. I know you’ll be a wonderful wife, Y/N. Taehyung will be in great hands.”

“I had been there, you know,” Taehyung chuckles, “When you claimed you’d be my wife when we got older. I was hiding in the hallway and initially, I thought, ‘I’ll never marry my best friend!’. But, now… I just can’t imagine wanting to marry anyone else.”

You grin at him sadly. Of course he had been holding onto this his entire childhood.

“Taehyung…”

“We’re still young, I know that. I just want to give you this for your trip to make me feel more at ease and so you can think about it. You can take all the time that you need. I know Mother wouldn’t mind, especially for you.” You nod. It’s all you can do. Taehyung pulls you into a tight embrace and kisses your hair. When he pulls away, he wraps your neck into the warmth of the scarf you’d always wished to wear. But it’s almost suffocating now, locking in your fate before you even step out of the village boundaries.

“For now, just come back to me. I’ll be waiting for you no matter what you decide.”

You can fathom the communal disappointment of rejecting your strongest suitor. More importantly, you would be shameful to turn down his proposal. Once it was out there, there was no “decision”.

You can imagine your aunts now, squealing in delight and sewing from their best cloths.

Part Three

Though you never had the chance to explore much, this really was nothing you've ever seen before. An ominous stairway carved into rock weaved in and out of your trail which made it fairly easy to follow along. You can't imagine the labor that went into sculpting this far ahead and all the way up the side of the mountain; it was truly something mind-boggling. As the air begins to thin, the amount of snow starts to grow thicker. If you had waited any longer into the winter you wouldn’t even be able to see the path, you’re sure.

You only need to stop twice to catch your breath and sit down. Snacking on the bread Jin gifted you only a few hours ago. It’s satisfying to look back at the area you’ve covered, how small things look from your height and the beauty of a fresh snow blanket. The scenery to the riverbank was nowhere as near breathtaking to that of the mountain. A dreamscape of evergreen trees and varying shrubbery, crossing over a short wooden bridge floating over a near-frozen stream, even occasional wildlife prancing into view. The summit itself wasn’t terribly high. It was manageable to hike for the most part, more so that your goal wasn’t to reach the peak.

You could travel all the time, you think. Hike or take a horse somewhere farther than here but that’s not very practical. There was nowhere really to go and you didn’t have the luxury to just up and leave your household, and now Taehyung. The knots in your brain seem to loosen, blame the inclination and dry air infiltrating your head. Knowing your life was to be faced someday and all your immature ambitions to leave the village now seeming childlike and unattainable. The pessimism had yet to blow out your weak flame of philosophical rebellion but it was surely keeping you in check.

Judging by the sun's position, it's midday. Meaning it shouldn't be long before you catch sight of the "manor" and thus will be halfway finished with your journey.

You nearly walk off the cliffside before you notice the route's abrupt change and how it slithers deeper into the eye of the mountain. The farther you walk, the closer the earthy walls begin to shut in on you in a trench-like structure. It's even more unbelievable coming upon a short archway, perhaps man-made and mined through a boulder that could have fallen from atop one of the peaks. Being here, you realize, makes you feel small. Slithering through the terrain like a fairy in the tales your mother had told you at night. Of beasts and cryptids that could appear in the tangles of forest and vanish all in the same. There was a sort of dreamlike trance you found yourself in as you walked under the rock as if it were a portal.

And, unexpectedly, it's there. Atop a few more dreadful flights of stairs, hidden between an odd bundle of trees and beneath a fresh veil of snow, you can barely make out the silhouette of a house. It's still a bit far and eerily surrounded by fog but it's there and it almost looks as if it's... floating. Like a gateway to a secret nook of heaven.

It's one of those odd, puzzle-like mirages when you climb more steps to think you're only getting farther from the house. The swaying of branches keeps you from determining just how big it is and what it could possibly conceal. Even the atmosphere, chill and intimidating, makes your heart skip in perplexed anticipation. Having been at this for hours, if the staircase hadn't just ceased you would have kept walking straight into the dark wooden door.

But your aching legs find relief in the stretching flat surface of a porch and your exhilaration to reaching such a majestic destination that you could squeal. Of course, you don't, and instead get started at the task at hand.

You kneel onto the cool floor and begin to unload your things, neatly and without the need to rush. You lay stones on each corner of the tapestry to hold it down, you lay out the contents in somewhat of an aesthetically manner, you strike a match to light the incense and you mumble your thanks on behalf of the village, all as you were told. The snicker under your breath comes unwarranted as you finalize the display, even Taehyung couldn't have done this well.

It feels a little anticlimactic; a little short-lived. To have come up this whole way and spend a maximum of five minutes in somewhere you could spend days exploring. Idling, you can practically hear the warning clucks of your aunts engraved into your brain.

"Don't dilly-dally!"

"Come straight home."

"Even think of doing anything funny and I'll have Seokjin roast you alive."

Maybe it's why it's even more satisfying to you when you ignore them altogether, standing from your position and just dying to see the rest of the manor's exterior. One peek, one peek and I'll never stray from instruction ever again, you think. Just my last burst of freedom and then I promise to be a good girl with no more personality than a wet dish rag.

So you tiptoe to the massive door and lean your ear against it as if you could hear anything with its size and the strong winds. You questioned if anyone even lived here, void of any decorations or signs of recent activity. Maybe the deer would get to the food you laid out before someone even stepped foot on the property prior next Offering.

When there are no obvious indications of life do you weasel your way around the corner, an extension of the porch wrapping around the side of the house to much of your assumption and revealing an expanse of space. The cabin was two stories at the least, maybe even three if not had been for the first story windows and how incredibly tall they were. You could only imagine the comfort of being inside such a space, being able to wake and watch the snow behind a glass wall of incredible proportions. While you ogle the window do you, of course, fail to realize that it's transparent and startle a bit when something begins to move.

The reflection makes it a bit difficult to pinpoint, a large dark figure shifting ever so slightly in its confines. Like a complete buffoon, you near the wall even closer with squinted eyes just making out the shapes of an entity.

Whatever it is, it's incredibly large. A heart in shape and composed of monochromatic blacks, reaching the floor and surely much taller than you. It was killing you that you couldn't figure out what the hell it was, well-near leaning against the glass as you peer into the private space.

You freeze in place as the elongated heart is really in the shape of wings, accompanied by a body as they’re dragged behind it like a veil. Long and dark and ruffling occasionally as their owner rotates a bit...

But you don't get to see his face. The man in which you firmly believed could be nothing but a myth; as propaganda by the village elders to keep your actions in check. Rather, the seraphs were more authentic than you could have ever imagined, and as magical and inspiring as it may be, so are the Offering rules that are now proved and justified, and that could only mean that this was very, very unfortunate timing to be snooping around property that was not yours.

Your feet scramble backwards in attempt to flee out of sight, instead graciously slipping against the frozen wood and causing you to land quite harshly on your side. Your hip burns at the impact but more horrifyingly important, the crash rattles the side of the floating stoop and his eyes burn into your pathetic body. The moment is wedged between fractions of a second, eye contact barely existent but it's enough to see the daggers in the seraph's irises. It's enough of a warning for you to get back onto your feet and sprint as carefully as possible away from such a gaze that could light this winter wonderland into disastrous flames.

All that comes across your mind as you rush down the steps is how wrong you were. How you unjustly became more and more skeptical of the stories and legends of the creatures that existed in the crevices of the mountains. How numb you became to the warnings as your age drew near for your rite of passage. How much of a taboo you would become if you were to ever tell a living soul that you witnessed a seraph and its marvelous wings. Not that you would.

Your ability to run brings you to the realization that you forgot your things but it was beyond you now. For once in your life, you cherish the idea of being home and hiding under the covers in the tranquil warmth of a familiar fireplace. To dream away the moment that dark angel caught a sly fox trespassing into his territory and, rightfully so, looking as if he craved to skin it alive.

You yelp at the sudden caw of ravens as they fly overhead. Their screeches send shivers to your bones, a sudden chill slowing you down. Rustling in the nearby trees deem you completely terrified, a gut feeling deducting the possibility of winds blowing that strong in the middle of dense shrubbery. Your heart drops once more; your athame was left in the abandoned bag.

The last time you had seen a wolf was when you were barely a toddler, sleepily held in the arms of a younger (and much kinder) Mina. It lurked in the woods just past the fields, a little young and possibly separated from its pack. But wolves were smart and they knew better than to make trouble in a town of loud humans. You remember the way it pulled its ears back and slinked back into the sanctity of its wild home and never to be seen again.

These wolves were smart too, howling their announcement upon finding a small, weak girl all alone and oozing dread. Two pairs of eyes track you as their corresponding bodies stalk out of the bushes, large and sleek and beautiful. Both grey and both incredibly hungry, they begin to pace around you maybe 100 feet away. You startle back and up a stair, most favored option to return to the cabin and retrieve your bag, maybe stay near for a bit until the creatures leave but then another, black and larger than the other two, barks harshly and stands its ground on your sacred steps. You are royally trapped.

“Stay… Stay back,” you warn dumbly, looking to the only open direction in the woods. You wouldn’t be as fast as on the path as long as you had to maneuver through the snow but you could possibly break off a hefty branch. Enough to ward them off to get back to the cabin and pray that the seraph doesn’t pose more of a problem than flesh-eating hounds.

So you sprint, robes clenched in your fists and boots sinking into the pillows of ice, disappearing into the trees and disregarding the snarls that start up behind you. You look desperately for something, anything to help you. Snow begins to find its way into your shoes each time you trip over yourself, wetting the soles of your feet. Hands scraping against bark with each twist and turn and your fingers burn. You only look back occasionally, seeing no more than one pair of eyes at a time at a short distance. This must have been a fun game to them, howling their contents into brisk air.

The black dog truly appears from nowhere, a flash of teeth from your left peripheral before it tackles you to the ground the same moment you find a dead branch and thrust it into its snapping jaw. It all happens too fast. You yipe as you roll through the fall, wolf teeth still digging through your only weapon and snapping the poor thing to two. In pure desperation, you dig the sharper broken half into whatever it’s willing to hit. Fortunately enough, the wolf whimpers and tumbles off you. Then you’re off once again, adrenaline ringing in your ears as you don’t even care to recall which way is which, as long as it’s away from, what can you assume was, the Big Bad Alpha.

More howls from them, more cries from you.

You’re able to return to the path without another spotting. It turns out you were going the wrong way when you’re also met with the narrow exit and that cursed archway. A gateway to inevitable death.

Halfway through the gap in manic rush and you’re face to face with a beast so pale that it camouflaged with the flurry encasing you both. Eyes clear as water and almost… comforting. Even with the low rumble in its throat and one paw in front of the other in a slow, tantalizing chase. The others growl behind you, an enraged black-furred monster bleeding from its right eye socket turned quite smug now knowing that you were completely, utterly trapped.

It’s when the white wolf soundlessly drags a deep wound into your thigh while the three merely watch is when you ascertain that it is, undoubtedly, the pack leader. You fall back as the beautiful thing toys with you, snatching the front of your thick robe and shredding it with a sickening rip. You scream for the first time this entire chase, grabbing at Taehyung’s scarf in fear that it got caught along with it, caring for it more than your own life at this point.

The scream must have been piercing enough to discombobulate your attacker, it’s large ears flitting around as it jumps away from you. It’s even more of a shock when they all flee out of the divide, leaving you bleeding and too traumatized to move an inch. Whatever alarmed them devastates you even more.

The ravens caw loud and the ground vibrates. Watching the birds circle in the sky, you notice the way pebbles begin to crumble from each peak, how snow begins to over pile on such weak grounds and the way it begins to slide inward.

It’s an odd sound; snow sliding against other layers of snow and having so much weight that it pulls a few small trees with it. And this trench-like area only had so much space and you were positive the amount of white that begins to hurl towards you would fill it like a water cup; bury you with absolutely no chance of being able to dig your way out. Despite your fear, you cower at its charge and wait for the weight to hit.

And then your head lolls back against something wonderfully warm and dry. You were completely soaked but too exhausted to shiver. In your last moments of consciousness, with your neck craned uncomfortably, you see the ground as the sky and the sky as the ground and feathers as feathers. You think of home. Think of warm summers where you would dip your feet in the riverbed. Think of bonfires with Jungkook and Jin and Hoseok and even Taehyung. But everything is still snow and you think you’re beginning to loathe each damned flake. The only comfort you find is the homeliness of the carmine red material that blows softly against your face. With that and the fleeting thought that you might be righteously transported to heaven do you finally pass out.

Part Four

Yoongi wasn’t particularly fond of humans. Unlike his brothers and sisters that sympathized with such weak creatures enough to put their own lives at risk, it was just something he would never come around to understand. Species were organized and separated for reasons and intermingling was a curiosity that died ages ago for him.

Which is all a hypocritical contradiction when he sees you sleep soundly on his common room couch, changed into dry clothes and buried beneath a heap of duvets. Whatever had possessed him to go after you was pure impulse after the stunt you pulled on him. Prowling around on private property and, more importantly, breaking the village’s strict ritual rules. Catching him going about on what would be another unmomentous day in his schedule, creating enough of a ruckus to capture his attention, and then fleeing as a feeble mouse.

It’d be a lie if he had said he didn’t watch you scramble away down the steps from the comfort of his front door and a fresh coffee in hand, watching you stumble over nothing on your way. It was more when you had left your things like a pure imbecile, food and tools and all, and left without even waiting for the incense to finish burning. It was then that he came to the conclusion that you were incredibly clumsy and that served as entertainment to him.

The howls were his test of will. Knowing the dogs were way farther up the mountain than they normally were and supposing they had followed your poor, unfortunate soul during your trek, waiting for the perfect time to strike. And you were practically handed to them on a silver platter, considering you’d left your only knife on the cold wood of his porch.

Maybe he had come down, grumpily disturbed from his peaceful Saturday, more to save himself from cleaning the remnants of someone eaten in his vicinity more than the compassion to save you. But that was a tad bit too cruel, even for him. He thinks it was more of that uniquely curious glint in your eyes as you practically skipped into his sight. Daring enough to ignore those rather ridiculous warnings and try your luck. Delicate as a deer in hunter’s perspective. As often as he’d go out to restock supplies in neighboring towns would he never come across a visitor in his own domain. Call him quaint, but it was a mediocre surprise.

He prods the fire, making it crackle and reflame with more vigor. It had barely been a few hours since he’s saved you by the skin of his teeth, almost caught in the landslide himself.

He checks the wound on your leg once more, cleaning it again before securing it in bandages. If only he had gotten there faster, Yoongi tsks, but you’d strayed from the path and he could only follow the prints so quickly before they were covered by the flurry. By the time he found you again, you were knelt in front of the pack and submitting to your death. Had he not been on a hill, had he not been able to utilize his useless wings to glide down before the snow had claimed you first…

You groan softly, unable to roll around without a searing poker sinking into your thigh with each attempt. Contrast to the icicle state the rest of your body sported. You felt like hell. Like hell in hell guarded by those hounds. Hell in your thigh and hell in your head and hell in—

“Don’t move too fast. You have a fever and I just replaced your bandages,” a disembodied voice orders. Your eyes snap open to tall, wooden ceiling. Sitting up is your first horrible mistake, dropping back down immediately with a pained wheeze.

“I just said not to move too fast. If you can sit up normally, you should drink some water. I have some here,” it speaks again. You try again cautiously, blurry spots ruining your vision the farther up you scoot. A silhouette is kneeling beside you, maybe a cup in his hand but you’re too jumbled to confirm.

Yoongi tries his best to fold in on himself, lowering the obvious limbs stuck to his back and appear as human as possible. You wouldn’t be able to run again in your state but he tries his best to be courteous to your skittishness anyway.

“Where… Where am I?” You dazingly question. You don’t really… recall too much. Last memory somewhat muddled between your send-off and contact with those treacherous wolves, very few in between and serving no importance if you couldn’t remember how it ended.

“You’re safe in my house. In the mountains still. You passed out pretty good out there, been out for a bit. Now drink.”

It’s easy to do as your told with you’re running off little brainpower, downing the water hastily.

The voice scolds, “Hey, slow.”

At some point, you can see again. The blankets that cover you and the large room you inhabit. Of course, the seraph from earlier that awaits by your seat. His seat. But you feel no urgency to scurry into safety. You were discombobulated, sure, but you knew enough that this man was kind enough to bring you into his home and care for you. So you fold back the material slowly and watch his face contort into confusion as you try to stand.

“I’ll be on my way. I’m sorry to have bothered you. Thank you for treating me.”

“Woah now. You’re in no condition to be standing. Besides, the path is blocked. Snow was too heavy and caused a slide. I doubt it’ll clear until the spring,” he informs, looking out the window as if to drag your own attention to it. The snow stopped but it’s fallen a few feet, at least. The path, you remember, chased by wolves and led into an ice trap. The few split moments in which the man must have scooped you up before your demise, remnants of being carried back towards his estate.

His place, in which is even more amazing inside than it was outside, a luxurious wooden mansion of sorts, tall and spacious and filled with those incredible windows that displayed better than you could have ever dreamed. The man himself that sits beside you draws full attention. Despite his position, he was large and still intimidating as the moment you crossed sights for the first time. Hair matching his wings in dark palette, soft and delicate looking. His face anything but, sharp eyes and thick brows, lips that curved into a simper. Above all, he looked more human. Even as radiant and prepossessing as he was, if the cape of wings didn’t follow him where he went he would look just as human as the rest of the population.

“Are you a seraph?” You ask dumbly. Dumb, because he laughs and because he obviously is.

“Are you a human, pretty thing?” He retorts. There’s no condescending lilt to his words but it makes him seem otherworldly to you. With such a provoking question and your lightheadedness, he seemed a blessing to be inhabiting such an earth.

You melt into the cushions once more, leg throbbing and eyes heavy. You watch his wings as they bob with his breath, “They say it’s bad luck to lay eyes on the wings of an angel…”

“Why would that be?,” he scrunches his nose, maybe a little appalled by the idea, “Such a misleading myth. Besides, I’m no angel.”

You don’t know why he stands to leave the room after that, unnoticing how you fall back into sedation a minute later.

Part Five

You wake with clarity. Check your thigh to find it almost completely healed over except a now lingering scar. All’s left is a dull soreness but god it felt so much better. Enough to stand and stretch in the empty room. Enough to coherently realize that you only wear your underwear while the rest of your garments hang torn and sadly on the fireplace screen. It’s not as unbecoming if it had to be done for the sake of your health and wellbeing, right?

Getting dressed is easy when you don’t even bother with your robe, the gash decreeing it useless and instead tying Taehyung’s scarf around your shoulders as a shawl over your tank. You’re lucky it didn’t get torn.

There’s a fleeting moment where you really think you miss Tae, feeling a little regretful to being so afraid of his proposal in light of the recent accident. You’re sure he must be worried sick; must think you’ve perished under the debris and snow if he’s come to look for you. As his best friend, you solemnly wish he was here to hug you close and promise that it would all be okay. To fend off your shame and welcome you back into the village with teary eyes and a warm smile.

“Ah, human. You’re awake.”

You whip around to discover fox eyes in the door frame, poorly lit now that it’s nighttime. The moonlight pairs well with how it sits on his milky skin, almost something out of a painting.

“It’s Y/N. Not ‘human’.” You answer a little sharper than you mean. He notices too, quick to wave it off since he really had popped up out of nowhere. He tries your name once on his own tongue, a satisfying thing to say.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Min Yoongi, in case you don’t want to call me seraph all the time.”

You suddenly grab your thigh, rubbing it over your pants in questionable disbelief, “How long have I been asleep? My leg is almost fully healed…”

He rubs at his eye, a little nonchalant about the scene at hand, “Only overnight and throughout the day today. It’s probably quarter to nine about now. I had medicine to help your cuts heal over nicely. Call it, uh, advanced seraph technology.”

The gashes hadn’t been incredibly deep to begin with, thankfully not going any further than the first layer of skin and just really causing some bleeding, but it was still amazing. The feeling is short lived. Even if only a day, you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“Thank you, um, Mr. Min. For saving my life and everything after that. I’d like to repay you sometime. But for now I’m afraid I should be heading back, I’ve stayed for too long. I’m sure I can find some way over the path.”

It dawns on you that Yoongi is a little facetious, especially when he purrs a, “Well you can do whatever your little heart desires, but I’m here to remind you that there is no path. Here, look out the window.”

You do, tiny bit distracted when he stands by you to point out the ridges of the mountains that surround you. “See those? How they curve in towards the top and how it sort of resembles a bowl? This area was made only for seraphs to get in and out of generations ago; flight only. Trying to climb it would be suicide on both sides. The path that goes through was strictly for human use, and if that’s blocked, there’s no way out, little one.” You weren’t the shortest in your village but Yoongi truly was massive, both lanky and filled-out somehow. Like there’s underlying strength to his lean build. You’re sure if you were to stand directly in front of him, the top of your head would barely surpass his sharp shoulders.

You disregard his name for you, a bit annoyed at this point, “Could you not fly me over the pass?”

Yoongi repeats in disbelief of such a daring request, “Fly… You over the pass… No. I’m sorry. I won’t do that. If you truly want to figure it out, you should do so soon. It's storm season."

Gritting your teeth, you express your discontent for once. What did he save you for, then? For points? You didn't know members of the almighty seraph clan were so keen to half-completed deeds. "And why not? Wouldn't you rather I be on my way? What am I supposed to do if I can't leave?"

"You forget yourself, Y/N. Did I not save your life? Chase after you and save you from being crushed? Buried alive?" He takes a second to straighten himself out, aware of how you look to your feet in frustration.

"Hey," he starts again, "I know you'd like to go home. I only tell you the truth of your situation in its entirety. If I could fly you over the pass I would but unfortunately, I'm out of commission."

You feel heat in your face, embarrassed of the way you address a complete stranger even after all the things he's done for you. But this was frankly a sticky situation to find yourself in, trapped and unable to get Yoongi to help you any further. Though you do wonder what he means by his last statement...

"I'm... I'm sorry. I don't mean to make demands. I'm just scared and in a place I'm not used to and I'm not quite sure what I'm to do from here. Is there no one else who can help me over?"

Yoongi averts his gaze before he shakes his head, "I'm the last one in this country."

That's even more odd to hear but you don't prod for information that isn't yours to learn.

In silence, you contemplate the work that even went into carrying another human body by use of wings that were structurally built for the owner's own weight and possibly nothing else. Now was not the time to be ignorant.

“What am I supposed to do?” You mumble weakly. Yoongi watches your gears turn warily, stress surely beating down on you.

He rubs his neck, ruffles his left wing, “Listen. I promise I’ll help you back come spring. You won’t be able to make a dent in the landslide as long as it continues to build with snow every night.” He tends to forget that humans are pack animals, often lost without one another and feeble in the hands of species not of their own.

Your doe eyes, beginning to well with tears, convince him over tenfold, “I’ll help you in any way possible to pay you back for all the things you’ve done. I know I’ve caused nothing but trouble but if you have the room, is it possible I stay here?”

And Yoongi had enough vacant rooms to house a whole herd of deer now that he’s been alone for these sum of years. It really was no trouble… and he could make use of you as long as you stayed. His brow shoots up, “You can stay.”

Your grin is enough to light the whole room encased in night’s darkness, looking back down to the ground now knowing you had some hope to hold onto in such an eventful day. A whisper of a thank you Mr. Min is thrown in and Yoongi can feel his fists tighten.

He clears his throat, standing a little taller than he already is and acting strict, “But there are some rules. And you can just call me by my first name.”

Part Six

It's always a little weird trying to adjust to new scenery. Though your past experiences have been anticlimactically different than this; not exactly the first time visiting a friend's house or dropping off delivered goods from Seokjin's shop and awkwardly facing an elder who forces you to stay for tea.

Yoongi had shown you around the areas you needed to know. Offered you the closest room to the main part of the house with a king bed, fresh sheets and your own majestic window to stare out of. The living room which you had rested in before and the kitchen, grand and spacious just like everything else. He showed you a greenhouse out back that was utterly ginormous. Stone walkways and a hot compost keeping it from freezing, rows of plants you both have and haven't witnessed before. And again, he showed you what you needed to know.

That goes onto the chores he assigned you as long as you stay, to help him clean come Sundays and manage the plants throughout the week which served as no problem. At least with horticulture you proved some use, struggling throughout the weekend to do anything else but cause Yoongi a bit of a headache.

Tuesday rolls around and Yoongi stops by your room with stationary. Tells you he has a messenger bird to deliver any letters you desire to send home and you hop on the opportunity quicker than the landslide had tried to eat you up.

Of course, it was an exceptionally long letter. Longer than the papers Yoongi had given to you and he had to fetch more when you looked absolutely devastated sitting at your desk. You began with the simple phrase, "I'm okay." Filling it with a volley of explanations and apologies, how you were nearly killed, how the seraph had scooped you up to safety and how you inhabit his home now until further notice. You write how you talk, sure the recipients are sure to read in hushed mumbles and run-on sentences. You explain that there's no use to try to get home now while the clouds continue to precipitate and gate your only exit from the bowl-like wonderland. You end with how you miss them already, a request to send back an update or two every once in awhile, and a final wish to have a happy winter without you (though you're sure they won't appreciate that joke).

You think, if they really receive the letter, how terribly furious they'll be with you. Taehyung and Jungkook will probably come hiking up the mountain to try to put a dent in the debris and fail miserably. Your aunts and how they must feel even the tiniest bit of guilt for thinking you so small and helpless. Mina and her jealous wonder that you've done it now, how you've seen a seraph before her and you're positive she'll have a flurry of questions when you return. When you return.

You come out onto the balcony to pay your respects to your so-called "messenger", pretty white thing large and wide-eyed. Humorous is the familiar to another winged being, bird of a feather, you chuckle to yourself. Yoongi pays no attention when he murmurs directions to the bird and sends it off, straight in the direction you were hoping.

Thursday and you think you finally have your routine down. No longer unsure in the hallways and able to sit when your work is done without feeling completely out of place. It's only when you're around the other member of the cabin do you feel a little subdued, reminding you that you burden him and quickly finding something to do out of that guilt.

❋

Today you feel a bit sluggish. You drag yourself down the corridor, opting for the bath until you see a dark head in an open room. Yoongi sits in his study, presumably reading with his back facing you. You can't say you've seen this room before, ceilings just as tall and walls just lined with books, journals, art pieces and things of the like.

"You can come in," he snickers suddenly, maybe feeling the heat from your eyes boring into the back of his head and warming the space entirely.

"This is amazing... Your collection, I mean." You force yourself down in a chair, hands trapped underneath your thighs in case they feel like touching anything.

"Thank you. It took quite a bit of time to build it up. Not by myself, of course."

It makes you ponder. If he's mentioned his state of loneliness twice, then your questions were expected.

"There were more, right? Family of yours? Why are you the only one left?"

"One question at a time, yeah?" He swivels around and takes off a pair of reading glasses that you would have liked to inspect on his face a bit more, "I can't leave because I can't fly, remember? They left because they held no other duty tied to this land. That's all."

You quiet. He returns to reading whatever it is on his flat desk. "Why can't you fly?"

"Because I was hurt."

"How were you hurt?"

"Next question."

"What are you reading?"

"A story of a girl with a terrible habit of too many inquiries."

"You know, I loved to read when I was a kid. All kinds of things. Novels, studies, maps even. Now I never have the time for such pleasantries." A wistful sigh leaves your lips.

Yoongi eyes you beneath his lashes, watches as you survey the room with giddiness and hands taut underneath your bum. "Why's that?"

You frown, "Too many things to do. Jobs and cleaning and family and stress. If I have time to read, I have time to be doing something more important."

His lips curl, amused at this little play-thing in his room. Like a child scolded all her life, whining and pouting in front of a stranger. Yoongi stands tall and shrugs his sweater tighter around him, "Well then, you'd better hop to it."

"Hm?" You squeak, chewing on your lip when you meet his eyes. So innocent.

"You only have the winter to read these. I'd get started soon. After work is done and you want to poke around in here, feel free to do so. Take them to your room if you'd like, just please return them."

And he swears he sees damn stars in your eyes before he turns and leaves the room. He hears your immediate footing once he's halfway to his room, little yelps of excitement enough as his thanks. Yoongi can't help but smirk, eventually floating away and speaking way out of earshot for you to hear.

"Nothing is more important than the things you want."

Part Seven

After a month, you find it a little boring. After receiving a teary letter of how your family misses you, not one ounce of scold or chastisement more than it was just wholesome relief to see familiar handwriting, their only wish was for you to stay obedient and not write so often as to waste poor Yoongi's paper. It was typical, somewhat stress-relieving. And that was that.

It was often you spent your quiet interest reading of botany and romance (in what little you found of it) preferably in his study on days he's holed up in his room. At this point, he still remains somewhat of a mysterious entity, conversing when he must and accidentally showing his face once or twice like a ghost. The only times you really see him are for Sundays with idle chit chat.

One particular evening you find an old, ratty recipe book. Handwritten and falling at the seams and that's how you know that there are some golden tips in there for you to test out.

You choose pumpkin bread. Something to warm the palette while ice continues to build outside. And working in Yoongi's kitchen by yourself was oddly fulfilling, no one to correct you or send you off to another job if you fail to do the first. It's probably why your bread turns out perfect, slicing the loaf and placing a piece on a small plate for a friend.

Rather, someone you'd like to establish as a friend.

You haven't seen him once today; not odd but a little lonely. Pacing on the carpets and looking for an open door with any sign of a sly angelic being. Even after a month, it's the first time you've freely made something with intents of sharing with him. Was that rude of you?

Coming upon a jarred entrance, you speak softly, "Yoongi? Are you in there?"

No reply.

You clear your throat and toe the door open just enough to stand in its frame, "Yoongi? I made some pumpkin bread for us—"

Thank your soft voice does it not wake him, still a snoring log in a bed even larger than yours. His limbs sprawled widely, laying on his stomach and breath soft and slow. Sleeping in the middle of the day while his guest slaves over the stove must be quite nice, huffing subtly and placing his plate on his night desk. Sure to be spoiled even more when he wakes to a treat.

As you turn, your eyes can't help but dawdle over the expanse of his wings. One covering a naked back and one hanging off the side of the bed, a marbling effect of muddled sepias and ink blacks, occasional golden ochre pigments seeping through the deepest layers of feathers. It was utterly breathtaking. This has to be one of the first opportunities you've had to inspect them so, equating staring at his monstrously large wings the same as blatantly staring at his junk.

You draw close like a moth to a damn flame, checking to assure he's still sound asleep. Reaching delicate fingers, you dare to lay a palm on the mass. It's surprisingly strong, an odd firmness as you slide your hand down silky plains and watch as the feathers ripple by your touch.

Then, as if you weren't dumb enough to foretell the upcoming events, he wakes.

A whirl of darkness encases you, whips you around so fast that you see stars in the middle of day, completely flipped and pinned to the bed beneath you. The intense heaviness makes you recoil, unable to budge your wrists and legs with Yoongi's strength.

And his face of unadulterated fury is one that would be ingrained into your memories forever. Pupils dilated and nose scrunched like prey warding off predator. Yoongi was surprised to say the least, a scared frenzy of confusion as he growls down at you.

"What were you doing, human?"

Your weeping gains no mercy, "Ow, you're, you're hurting me!"

"What the fuck were you doing?" He spits.

Incoherence is not what he asks for but that's all you can give, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I won't touch them again I was just—"

His wings which were so beautiful to you before, makes you feel nothing but fear now, flapping angrily as he keeps his balance and shrouding you in shallow lack of light. When he lets up on his grip, you gasp like he also held your breath. Immediate relief streams through your blood, though he continues to trap you between his thighs. He asks you again and you sob.

"You know what happened the last time I let one of your kind close? Nearly fucking killed me for no reason. You know why I can't take you down the mountain? Why I'm stuck here by myself? Because a goddamn human stole my ability to fly. I can't fly anymore, do you understand me? That's all that I was and they took it!"

Yoongi sees the pity etching onto your face like some sort of charity case. With your pathetic excuse for tears that claim to sympathize with him and it makes the bile in his throat grow. As for you, you could have never imagined such a travesty. Those words that seem to bounce around in your skull, to be wholesomely one thing and to be rid of it by someone else's doing, you could never relate to that.

You itch to relieve his pain in some way as if he never lashed out on you to begin with. Like you were the one truly at fault here even though you know it's a two-way situation. Your hands struggle to not touch his face, to attempt to alleviate those dark, regretful feelings. "Yoongi, I'm so sorry. I would never—I would have never known--I'm from one of the villages where we look up to the—"

"Yeah, well I don’t trust people," He cracks, lungs filled with muddled sorrow.

Both of your breathing is ragged. He takes his leave off your body and sits on the edge of the bed, wings lamely drooped.

"Leave." So you do.

Part Eight

You find the most beautifully carved wooden bow the next morning. Sun barely risen and adventuring around in nooks you haven't looked through before. You find it, accompanied by plenty of arrows, leaning against the wall right outside the backdoor. Though it's been months since you've last hunted, you ache to make use of yourself. Wearing bundled layers of the clothes Yoongi let you borrow from what was left and bounding through the condensed areas of the woods behind the cabin.

Food isn't scarce to hunt for, you've come to realize. Rabbits abundant and easy to kill once you got the hang of it once more. Two are struck and red seeps through white. You always sink your knees into the ground after each kill, whispering your thanks before you move back to the house.

Taehyung's father had taught you the basics of hunting and fishing and everything that came after that. Skinning and cooking and preserving the flesh something everyone in the village should learn to do, he had said. Even after your mistakes, even after your hesitation for your first kill, he'd always pat you on the back and reward you with the first bite of fresh food.

You miss them all, especially now. It wouldn't be long until you saw them again with maybe a bit of heightened skills. You hope they'll be proud of you.

Yoongi wakes a little after you're finished cooking the first rabbit. He stumbles in quiet and groggy, as if having no recollection of the previous altercation. But he doesn't speak, doesn't so much as look your direction before he plops at the head of the dining room table and begins to sulk in an odd inner-turmoil state.

You wait a minute or two by garnishing the meat unnecessarily; perhaps he was waiting to say something. To apologize. To ask questions. To kick you out once and for all. Well, you'll beat him to it then.

You set his plate down in front of him, the jarring sound breaking his trance enough where he can finally meet your face.

"I hope you don't mind I used your bow. I cleaned the arrows afterward and put it back where I found it," you hesitate. "I appreciate your kindness thus far; to take me in like this. I was a complete stranger and you gave me shelter anyway, so I thank you. I've packed and cleaned and I—I think it's time I leave now. I'll find a way to get over, I don't care. And I'm, I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've caused, Yoongi. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable but I overstepped my boundary way too far yesterday and I apologize profusely."

You find that you dig your nails into your palms as you talk, head craned parallel to the floor and you wonder if Yoongi could even hear you when you were so rudely speaking to the rugs.

"Stop, you don't... You don't have to leave. There's still no way you can get over the snow." He massages the back of his neck, tense in his own skin.

"I'm so sorry," you repeat. "I let my stupid curiosity get the best of me and I can very clearly see how that made you feel alarmed and uneasy and—"

He cuts you off, "You know the myth, right? How it's bad luck to see a seraph's wings?"

Confused, you nod.

"It's not literal. It's a metaphor that it's bad luck to see our vulnerabilities. Our faults. Years and years and years ago, when the war was still active, I got mixed up with a human. Within enemy boundaries. I was naive and trusting and they made use of that. They sought out my weaknesses, ate 'em up and covered my suspicions with false adoration and love," he says the word like it's an illness, "But then. But then one night, they put something in my water. Drugged me. Something was wrong and I didn't fully go under. I suppose their original plan was to take me, probably torture me as a prisoner. But I caught on and still had a bit of composure and when they realized the drugs didn't work, they sought to kill me instead. Used a dagger and plunged it into my back as hard as they could. Right," he reaches an arm behind and massages a spot, "Right in the cross-section of where all four wings meet. I should have been paralyzed but we're tough. I can still move them but I haven't been able to fly since. Thank heavens I wasn't killed but..."

You can tell by the way that there’s no emotion in his statement, how true it rings, "That day, I might as well have been."

You wipe the pools of tears with your scarf, heartbroken for the shattered man that sat in front of you. Having to bear the sight of his wings every day and full-knowing he would never be able to use them again.

His voice croaks, "In their eyes, my own family's eyes, I commit a sin just by making such a fool of myself. The war ended and I was punished. They left me here and claimed loneliness is what I deserve."

Yoongi then realizes he sounds as if he's trying to justify yesterday's actions and literally sinks to the ground, "This isn't supposed to be a pity party. I just thought you might want to know why I am the way I am and how I had no right to snap like I did. I know you're from the north most village. And that you would never try to do what they did and I was wrongfully paranoid."

Then, out of all things unexpected, he grabs a bare ankle and lifts it out of the length of your dress. When you hobble, he grabs your gentle hand with his other to balance you. He can see the marks he left, not too dark but enough to tell and he can't help but despise himself. In pure remorse, he presses his lips softly to each bruise, not lingering for more than a second, before cowering to the ground with his head low.

"My sincerest apologies, Y/N. You don't have to leave if you don't want to. I prefer if you wouldn't. I'd like to get to know you and redeem myself, as selfish as that may seem. Maybe, until spring, I can make up for the things I've said and done—"

You sputter, voice too high and full of embarrassment as you struggle to pull him up, "Please! P-Please get up! I am at fault here! Don't kneel, please! You have nothing to make up for!"

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he watches you yell your affirmations and weakly tug on his arm. It was like watching a little kid throw a fit and that makes him chuckle aloud, how could he have ever suspected you as harmful? When your large eyes shed tears like no other and you impulsively make decisions for others before yourself. You were kind and he could see that. He laughs hard and you stop your squawking.

In disbelief you fall to your knees right beside him, looking plain stupid while you're at it. It occurs to you that you've never heard him laugh like this, smile so wide that his eyes crescent endearingly and it just lights up the room. After watching his handsome face radiate forgiving happiness, you join in too.

You eat rabbit together. The conversations from there on out easier to come up with, more emotional and found in the midst of tranquil understanding. Like you now shared a bit more of each other than before.

Occasionally, you think of all the sadness he must have accumulated until now. Of the things that happened to him that shouldn't have, and those years of isolation and abandonment that he suffered. But now you realize, too, how he's able to laugh and continue on despite those melancholy winters in a desolate place that he once called home. How it's all he can do as his only sign that he's still alive.

Part Nine

The weeks after that seem to breeze past you; time racing when you have more things to do and someone to do it with. Yoongi really meant it when he said he would try to make up for his past harshness; never daring to miss a meal, spending more time in the livelier rooms if it meant that it was to accompany you, going as far as helping you out with your own chores if he hadn’t taken them over entirely. It was a polar opposite of who you knew before.

The first time he joined you to hunt again, in favor of how you had cooked his meat the last time, he layered himself in clothing that made his appearance softer than you’d ever imagined. Leaning towards darker garments that contrasted against his opalescent skin.

In some haughty attempt to show off your archery skills do you aim for a squirrel in a less-than-mediocre angle, letting the arrow fly without a second thought and piercing good ol’ trunk. Yoongi had a fabulous time laughing at your mishap, yanking the wasted arrow from the bark and handing it back to you.

“That was a horrible shot,” he said.

The temperature of your cheeks could have melted the snow, taking the thing with shaky, embarrassed hands, “I was being hasty.”

“You got two rabbits. I know you’re good. Let me just show you some things.”

You walked behind, letting him tread through the snow first so it was easier for you to fall into his prints.

“There. Squirrel,” he whispered. Probably the same one, mindlessly crawling up and down trees like target practice.

“Let me see your form again.” You aimed, self-conscious and probably showed it. You shivered when he swiped a hand under your grip arm, pushing it back.

“Keep it aligned with how the arrow is facing. Completely centered. You can widen your feet a little too,” his voice soft. “Don’t completely lock your elbow but tighten your back muscles before you hold. Does that make sense?”

“Mm. It won’t stop moving though, the squirrel.”

“Watch this.”

Then Yoongi had dug through the snow for a small stone with enough weight to throw. Aiming for a far tree to the right, he tossed just hard enough to cause a knock to echo in its vicinity. The squirrel halts, presumably looking for what caused the noise in its unknowing last thoughts.

“Shoot.”

And it landed perfectly.

He watched you silently each time you had knelt next to the victim and mutter your thanks, both sorrowful and appreciative. It was the first time he ever witnessed someone, frankly, talking to dead animals and at some point he asked you why you did so. You responded with a giggle, briefly claiming how all living creatures deserve the same respect, to be mourned, to not be wasted. Yoongi finds interest in the concept of valuing each as their own and of the same importance in the Grand Circle of Life, probably something his family would never have stopped to think about. The seraphs had always placed themselves above others in a deserving, self-righteous kind of way. It made him think.

❋

A particularly windy night and you caught him in the seat of his study's window, drawn to the mirage of colliding trees and listening to the croaks of the house on its plot. A muddled bottle sat on his desk, its glass counterpart being twirled in his hand.

"Do you like storms?" You asked.

"I didn't used to," he answered, unfazed by your sudden entrance, "Caused problems a lot of times. But I think they're pretty fun nowadays. And you?"

"I like when there's thunder and lightning."

Yoongi faced you at that, your twiddling fingers and the way you scanned the dim room.

"Would you like to join me for a drink?" Although it was a question he poured you one anyway, barely anything more than a few sips worth. Obliging, you took the liquid. Pride a little stung in all honesty, pretty aware of your high tolerance.

He tittered, "Don't pout. You can pour as much as you'd like. But this stuff is ancient, concocted from poison and the desire of Death itself. Watch yourself."

It was always a trait of yours to take on a challenge, though, ignoring his warning and foolishly gulping it down. The burn was subtle despite its awful, awful taste, yet you poured another and let Yoongi watch you spiral down the rabbit hole.

Two stories and one half-glass later and you draped yourself very unladylike on his desk, too warm and too moist and too loud.

"Yoongi..."

"Yes?"

"Min... Min. Mr. Yoongi."

"That's wrong but that's me."

"Yoongi you have to keep a secret. That I'm going to tell you! From Yoo—from Yoongi!"

"Wait, that you're trying to keep a secret from me or—"

You must had forgotten, instead focused on bunching your skirt and tying it higher up your thighs, "Soooo hot. Too warm. I'm going to leave it like this, ‘kay?"

"You don't have to pass it by me. They're your clothes," he said, biting back laughter. His accidental peak of pretty, bare legs could have made him think different though. Reverting his gaze back out the window, he wouldn't have been surprised to see lightning that night.

Taking his eyes off you wasn't his best idea. Hobbled out of his chair and sneaking to his place with hands buried in feathers before he could shy away. Yet the wonder stained your eyes with childlike amusement and he wouldn't dare change that face. So he idled in a flustered mess, relaxed in the way you unknowingly massaged his muscles.

"Pretty wings, Mr. Yoongi... Can I touch them?" You asked stupidly. Yoongi grumbled.

When you finished evaluating, you swiveled awkwardly and tripped over his knee, a yelp escaping your lips as if he wouldn't catch you in one swift motion and onto the safety of his lap. Yoongi could smell the bite of alcohol that stained your breath; could see how swollen and red and beautiful it had made your gentle face. The proximity was deadly and your innocent, apologetic features could have slain him right then and there. You didn't even make another peep, eyes drooped in what he assumed was embarrassment for your clumsiness.

In which he thought wrong, your hands slapping each side of his face and squishing it together horrifically. "Pretty face, Mr. Yoongi."

"Alright, time for bed."

You fought all the way until he tucked you in, out with soft breaths and sprawled arms. Even after he had laid you down to rest and calmed back in his lair, there was no slowing the fondness that grew in his ribs.

❋

You don’t know when you’ve started looking forward to Sundays, springing out of bed in the morning with a green thumb and a will to dig, or so you imagine. You knew Yoongi would be waiting for you in the greenhouse and spent a little extra time rinsing your face, doing your hair, and double-checking nothing was in your teeth.

Yoongi was already checking the pots when you had gotten there, wrapped in black per usual and winking as you walked by. The familiarity by now was tangible. There was always a nice flow to your conversations and Yoongi doesn’t back away when you naturally find yourself in his space like he used to. It was both a prideful accomplishment and an endearing new relationship that sparked joy every time you were able to do something together. To step back and see the difference over your time spent here, the things you’ve done, and the way Yoongi warms up slowly.

He watches you mindlessly hum as you harvest what you can, voice soothing when most times it would have been dead quiet. That’s what it felt like being around you: like a void suddenly filled, his whole being gravitating to your aura. You were addicting, if he had to admit.

The scarf, somehow pristine despite how often you wear it, is shuffled up your neck as you do one thing or another. Like a constant reminder that it’s there, you always feel the need to touch it.

Yoongi points to it, “Did you make that yourself?”

“Hm?” You follow his line of sight and crumple the red thing in your hands, “Ah! No. It… It was a gift.”

“Ooh, from a suitor?” He doesn’t mean any harm when he jests but it prompts the things you’ve left at home. No matter how much you’ve tried to suppress it down and not nitpick on the responsibilities you’ll have to return to. Awful as it seems, it makes you take notice to the sun and how it begins to peak out more with every day. You push the thought down once more.

Instead you laugh nervously. Yoongi knows immediately when you say nothing but, “Mmm…”

His gut twists from a melting of surprise and disappointment. How could he be so dim? To not even hypothesize the mere possibility of someone else being in your life. Though the feeling weighs heavy on his head, he speaks lightly and with a smirk.

“You must miss him then.”

“Yes. Of course. We’ve known each other since birth and have been best friends for as long as I can remember!” You chuckle, “He gave this to me right before I left and claimed we could get married once I returned. I was so shocked that I made myself sick thinking about going back. Just nervous, I suppose.” Taehyung, as expected, never said anything in the occasional letter updates to you. He meant it when he said he would only wait to talk about it for when you came home but you ponder how he feels now; what he’s been doing. If he’s changed his mind once he’s realized how incapable you are that you couldn’t even do the Offering correctly, but you know that isn’t true. Maybe just wishful thinking.

You throw dead leaves in the compost and Yoongi eyes you.

“’Shocked’? It’s not something you’ve been looking forward to?”

You look down, “It’s not that I—I don’t know! I just have seen him as family for so long and then there’s this sudden proposal without even talking about it beforehand… And everyone expects it. For me to just be married and have a family and all of that but I just, I just don’t see that for me so soon.” Your words begin to jumble and Yoongi hasn’t seen you so stressed within the span of twenty seconds before.

“Forgive me and my input but isn’t the most important thing what you want? You could just turn down his proposal,” He suggests like it’s the easy answer, hoping you don’t suspect a hopeful tone in there.

“Does it really matter what I want?” You stop to think about the people who matter to you and what would ease their minds most when it comes to your future. Marrying Taehyung seemed like the only option. “I can’t turn him down simply because I don’t want to. That’s selfish.”

“That doesn’t make very much sense to me.”

“Well,” you sigh, “in the village it’s courtesy to accept a marriage proposal regardless of how you feel. It’s the receiver’s obligation to be grateful towards—”

“Is that how humans treat their women?” Yoongi spits, agitated just by the thought. He leans against a table next to you, arms crossed like he’s simply not having it, “To ignore your own say and force you to think you should just be appreciative? That’s some bullshit.”

“It’s not as serious as I’m making it seem it’s just…” You think of your aunts and the elders and Taehyung’s mom. How you’ve grown into a nuisance, lacking here or there. The time where you were supposed to return to the village after a successful Offering and marry and finally be someone to be proud of. “In my case, especially, it’s probably better off I’m just someone’s wife. I’ve never been much to begin with.”

And that’s truly heartbreaking for Yoongi to hear, so much that he becomes enraged with whatever twisted society you grew up in, “Y/N. What have you been doing these last few months?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I mean, what have you been doing? Just sitting around? Watching me sweep circles around you? Serve your meals on a silver platter and draw your baths? No, because you’ve been doing that yourself. For yourself. By yourself.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to huff before he continues. “Sure, you were a little rough around the edges with some things but who isn’t? You hunt, you cook, you read like no other, you do a lot of great things and it’s not because you’re trying to do it right. You do it right when you like what you’re doing.”

“Yoongi, I understand. Thank you but you don’t have to—”

He walks toward you, lecturing on. “I know it’s by unwanted circumstances. But has your time here been horrible? Have you despised being here and doing these things?”

Your answer is immediate, “No. Not at all.”

“Has it not been nice to have your own space and do things simply because you want to? Because you were thinking of yourself?”

“I-It has been… I don’t know where you’re getting at.”

Your legs hit the corner of another table and you notice he’s backed you up into it.

“So, you go back and you do what you want like you have here. Don’t worry about what they think. Wait until you’re ready. Marry for absolute, unwavering love. Be a little selfish,” Yoongi hooks your chin with his index and props it up. You didn’t even realize you were looking to the ground. “Look up.”

Your heart stammers, “But Taehyung…”

So Taehyung is his name, Yoongi thinks. He frankly does not care.

“Do you love him?”

“W-What?

“Perhaps I was mistaken. Do you want to marry Taehyung because you truly love him?”

You see his lips before you hear his words, parted and nearing you bit by bit. So close that you feel his warmth, aching to close the distance. “I…”

A shovel clatters onto the stone and Yoongi removes his arm that’s found its way around your back, shuffles backwards and lets your hand fall from his face. It was natural to touch him, you realize, unaware that you feel distant and cold when he’s away.

Yoongi picks the damn thing up and curses. It wasn’t like him to be so forward, close to doing the unimaginable to you. You, who was involved with someone else. Heading towards the door, he ruffles his wings like he’s restarting.

“Forget I said that,” he requests, “I’m going to wash up.”

You nod, frozen in your spot with legs too unstable to dare walk. Without even knowing you had reached for him, so close to doing something you’ve only been secretly daydreaming about of recent and how incredibly wrong it was for you to think this way. But in another sense, you would feel worse lying to yourself by saying you weren’t attracted to the seraph. It was a twisted contradiction of emotions and you could scream.

Needless to say, you don’t see Yoongi until the next day, and even then nothing is mentioned of the almost.

Part Ten

On Tuesday, the bird returns with a letter from your family and Taehyung. It’s brief, with evident relief that the snow is melting and how happy they’ll be to see your face. Your heart sinks at how much you miss them yet how angry you are to receive the letter. To what extent would they be happy to have you home? Until you dare humiliate Taehyung when you turn him down? To dishonor your name and his parents and gain the glances of people who care more about your failures?

You calm and shoo such immature feelings away. Yoongi is confused when you don’t send a letter back and you return to your room early that night.

❋

You haven’t had a full night’s rest that entire week. You’re sure Yoongi notices the tension and that makes you feel horrible, but the lingering necessity to run to him and never go back to the village is too prominent to just face head on.

He’s been checking the trail every day, making dents on the softer parts of the snow when he can and updating you when he returns. You know he doesn’t want you to leave and you know he thinks you feel the same. Maybe it would have been better if you hadn’t said anything about the proposal that day.

Flipped onto your back, you stare at the ray of moonlight that floats atop your bed. You would miss it here, so much that it hurts your throat. You would miss the windows, the kitchen, the greenhouse, the library that Yoongi was happy to share. It goes without saying that you would miss him the most.

Unprompted imaging of a possible future with him interrupt your thoughts, something so uncertain and fortuitous in comparison to the stone-set fate you have now. What the stoic seraph would think if you just asked him to stay a little longer, until you know you would never leave. The landslide and how much you had hated that unfortunate event seems so insignificant now, replaced with a dimmed appreciation for this life detour, no matter how short lived it will end up.

You’re probably on the verge of sleeping now, thinking of the incident and it’s wild connection to your present out of pure lunacy. You could bet your entire existence on the fact that you were meant to meet him; your entrapment by the snow no mere coincidence. Neither was Yoongi’s endless solitude atop this mountain. It had to be fate that you two were to meet at this moment and your heart feels it so strongly.

Even for you this could be too far-fetched, or maybe you were just trying to cover up the way your heart is undoubtingly falling for Min Yoongi.

Final Part

You prod the logs, provoking them to catch more of the fire. In your last night do you decide to pour a glass of wine, kneel on a pile of blankets and snack on the charcuterie board you made for yourself. In the past, you used to be so hesitant about helping yourself to the manor’s amenities, having no problem doing it now.

The lame, weak fire is your only source of light in the large living room, clouds blocking the moon from shining through. You feel, immaturely, just as cloudy. Set in your intentions to leave your feelings locked away as to not cause more trouble, confusion, and inevitable heartbreak.

“You look quite comfortable,” Yoongi surprises you and he can tell when you jolt. Speaking of the devil. He looks great in the dark too, leaning against a wooden pillar with folded arms.

“Well, it feels like I’ve lived here for quite a bit. Just,” you break to sigh with exaggeration, “soaking it in before I leave. Too beautiful to not.”

If not for the crackling between the wood, it’d be dead quiet.

“Would you like to join me?”

He titters, rolling his eyes before he walks your way. Laying on his side, you offer him your glass. “I hope you don’t mind that I used the wine from the ritual contents. With the stuff you normally drink, this must be nothing.”

“Like water to me but I’ll enjoy it nonetheless.”

You cheers to nothing with one glass to share. Occasionally picking off meat and fruit from the board and enjoying how the fire builds up.

“Your family will be so happy to see you.”

You hum. You suppose they would. Avoiding the bitterness you still associate with the thought.

“And I’m sure Taehyung will be too.” He says a little clipped. Not in a way to be facetious or sarcastic but because he feels the need to address it.

Yoongi is caught on the carmine scarf again, downing the rest of your poor wine.

Forcing a smile, you speak faintly, “Let’s not talk about that.”

At this point you both know. He nods to keep you happy, but there is no hiding or pretending. In front of the flames, your lies and justifications seem to melt away unspoken. Changing the subject, you shove him lightly, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone. I don’t think you’ll ever learn to bake as well as I do.”

He tuts, which is refreshing. “I’m great at cooking and baking, I’ll have you know. It was just nice having someone else do it for once.” You feign betrayal and scoff aloud. He mumbles low, “But I’ll miss you for more reasons than that.”

And he breaks an unmade promise not to bring it up again. Feeling the need to throw it out in the open and even with the simplicity of admitting that he’ll miss you, you really know what he means. The seraph feels for you. He feels deeply. Yoongi doesn’t expect a response, just pops more food in his mouth and rests his eyes.

You contemplate, following suit with a bite to a grape and thinking hard. What to do. What to say. How to say it if you did. You weren’t supposed to feel this way and it goes way beyond the rule of even coming in contact with a seraph, let alone unconsciously falling in love with one.

But that’s just it: how you live by assumptions and rules based off the words of the ignorant villagers and the elders, how they all believe the seraphs are all still here, how they think there’s a direct relation to the Offering and a year’s good harvest, how it’s bad luck to see a seraph’s wings when it’s brought you anything but. If you learned anything from this winter, it was that you found you own way of living, thank the curiosity your home curses you for. Making your own path instead of aimlessly walking one that was already paved. You learned to trust yourself a little more while Yoongi propelled you forward and believed you deserved it all. You learned you did deserve more. You learned what love really felt like when it was new and fresh and exciting and real. And Yoongi. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi was the wine to your previously empty glass, and this winter with this man, it was heaven.

You decide the realization is enough for you. Have been gifted with so many things and blessings that you’re grateful for the chance to have met someone like him.

“I’ll miss you, Yoongi.”

Yoongi tastes bitter in his mouth. He felt that if all these years left alone in a manor of silence and rejection was to eventually meet you he would do it a million times, but if all you could reciprocate was this then it just wasn’t meant to be for him. It felt unfair but it also wasn’t his decision. He takes the sourness with him and stands. “I suppose I should head to bed.”

Your sad stare breaks his heart, even more so when you give up and nod. The fire catches your attention as it pops and you leave it at that. He tries to walk away, footsteps haunting, until he stops altogether.

It comes unexpectedly when he wraps his arms around you tightly, pressing his knees into your back. A weird sight it is to see his wings unfurl and curl around your rigid body. “Are you satisfied? Is this enough for you?” His voice is soft, like he could take either answer as long as he heard it from you directly.

“No.”

“Why don’t you ask for more.”

“You’ve already done too much for me, how could I possibly ask you for more?”

He hisses liar into your ear. “Is it your family?”

“No.”

“Is it him? Taehyung?”

Here you are again, faced with a question that tore you apart in the garden while you ached to be with Yoongi anyway. But there were no distractions here; nothing to interrupt your thoughts. Just you, Yoongi and your truth. He loosens his grip so you can face each other, knees between knees. Instinctively, you reach out for his feathers and indulge yourself with their softness. He pushes his wing into your hand as if to bribe you like a child.

He grows impatient, “Do you love him?”

You don’t waver, “No.”

A quick glint in his eye, a sort of relief, and then he finishes what he’s started and kisses you. It’s wrong how right it feels, lonely lips moving in tandem to find comfort in one another. Yoongi leans into it, absolutely devastated by your simple touch. The strength of the wine remains on your lips and he can’t help but lick into the flavor, drunkenly entranced by such luxuries. Yoongi’s hands can’t stay, snaking up your back, caressing your face, dragging his knuckles across your jaw and finally grabbing at the scarf. Carefully, he unwraps it from your neck, slow enough to feel it tickle your shoulder blades, before he folds it respectfully and places it elsewhere.

You sigh, more weight taken off your shoulders than there should be.

“Is this okay?” His voice raspy, speaking into the corner of your mouth. You’re stiff, nodding shyly and lacking the fire you brought up until this point.

He rewords, “Do you want me?” Yoongi feels the need to confirm, waiting for this moment for so long that it seems superficial. Like if he’s not careful, you’ll disappear into another one of his many short-lived dreams.

“Of course I want you, Yoongi. I want you more than anything…” But your eyes flicker to the ground, your lip tucked between your teeth.

“Then what’s wrong, lovely? You don’t have to.”

“No! I want to, I just… I’ve never done this before. I want you so bad but I don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing—”

His laughs are light, his hand on the small of your back as he dips you onto the floor. Holding himself above, he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. “You don’t have to do anything. I’ll take care of you. I want you and we’ll go slow and if you decide you don’t want to anymore, we won’t.”

The way he makes you feel, how gentle he is, you couldn’t imagine a more perfect way for this to happen. It eases you slightly, letting your arms snake around him in an attempt to let your guard down. He’s patient and wonderful and you mumble about it. “Mhm, okay.”

The night robe he’s gifted you now poses a problem, his slender fingers looping through the bow that keeps it wrapped, “Can I?” You nod again, and he unties you like his own present. The feeling of being bare in front of him becomes apparent when he sucks in and the heat from the fire dances against your skin. Other than that, you look to the window to avoid his face.

“My love, look at me.”

His commands are easy to follow but you cover your breasts to hang onto your last bit of pride, granting eye contact at the least.

Face flushed, you can tell he, too, is trying his best. “You’re incredible. More prepossessing than I could have ever imagined. You shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of me.”

“Well,” you retaliate, “it’s hard not to be when I’m the only one naked.”

He grins at the challenge, sitting up to shed his layers, never noticing his garments having to wrap around in a way to accommodate to his wings. You just thought it was just a more ornamental way of dressing that the seraphs took to. He’s left down to tight underwear that hugs him incredibly, beautiful milky skin exposed and tinted with golden light. “Satisfied?” He lilts.

“You look like an angel,” you trace indents of faint abs. Wide shoulders that taper into a tiny waist, a slim build that you could study forever.

He kisses your words away, pushing you into plush comforters and pillows. A makeshift nest unintentionally built for the two of you. A groan rewards him when he licks your bottom lip teasingly, taking your wrists swiftly to pin them above you. “Pretty thing, I don’t have a halo.”

He starts from the top, kissing each inside of wrist before moving down your arm, slithering onto your shoulder, then into the crook of your neck with gentle suckles. Teeth grazes before puncturing, eliciting a yelp from you that satisfies him. He does this over and over, decorating the canvas of your neck.

“I want to burn you into my memory. I don’t ever want to forget this,” he moans with a wake left down until he meets cleavage. His muscles were relentless, impatient and eager, wanting to worship ever square inch of your body as you rightfully deserved. Your squeaks serve his purpose, his muse as he continues his ministrations down.

Out of nowhere, “I don’t want you to leave me, Y/N.” The profession makes you giddy, happy you’re not the only one who feels so. A hidden insecurity acknowledged and lifted.

“I don’t have to if you don’t want me to.”

“Let’s talk about it after?”

“Mmm.”

He reaches your stomach and doesn’t hesitate to nibble there too, flinching when your hand flies to his head and buries itself in his hair. He ditches his current plan to grab your hand and plant a kiss to your palm in a second, making you giggle.

He admits, “I like when you touch me.”

“I want to. I feel so useless letting you do this alone.”

“You’ll get a chance if you’d like later. But right now, it’s all about you.” Husking it out. Of course, the idea sounds blissful, but the scene of having you cum by his actions sound better. “Need to cherish what’s in front of me properly.”

So he dips dangerously, laving at the skin above the hem of your panties and hooking his fingers under the sides, “Please,” he breathes.

“You… can do whatever you’d like to me. I want it all.”

He tugs his lip between his teeth, pulling it down. An unexpected wetness strings between your skin and the cloth and you both see it; him amazed, you horribly mortified. You stutter trying to explain yourself, oblivious that you could even feel as aroused as you do now. But his forehead falls onto the jut of your hipbone and you can hear subtle teasing in his tone. “I-I’m just as nervous and that was so incredibly sexy. I don’t think I can go on, shit.”

You laugh stupidly. “Quiet! Not another word! Just hurry up and—”

That terrible habit of looking away becomes your biggest fault, unprepared for Yoongi to filthily bury his tongue into your heat. He flattens his tongue and tantalizingly drags up until he can just barely flick your clit with the tip. Growling in the process.

“You are so sweet. The sweetest I could ever have. You will be the end of me.” Rushed in panted breaths as he does it again. And again. And again. So much that the growing sound of wet against wet echoes in the empty room and renders you paralyzed.

The feeling of it makes you squeamish, like you want to move, buck your hips, pull his hair. Despite the lewdness of having his rough tongue against you and lapping you clean, you could never ask him to stop.

“You just… keep getting… wetter…” He says between turns. “You really wanted me this much?”

“Yoongi—ah! Please, I can’t. It feels weird.”

“You don’t want me to continue, my love?” He asks lightly, blowing cold air onto damp skin and really forcing you to buck.

“No! I just… I have never felt like this. I want you to but I can’t sit still.”

“Oh? Let me help you then. But you have to let me finish.” So you shyly nod and loosen your legs. He uses the prompt to scoop them underneath his arms and attach the back of your knees atop his shoulders, your hips curving up and towards him in a new, tight position.

“Yoongi!”

“No matter how you feel, just let it happen.”

Sultry wails are music to his ears when he brutally sucks on your clit, licking your folds here and there and using all his strength to keep you in place. He spells out his love with his tongue, digs it into you sweetly. His power, though, anything but kind.

“Uncover your eyes,” he orders deeply.

You whimper, begging for mercy.

“Look. At. Me.”

Unveiling your view, his stare immediately burns into your veins. Looking at you under dangerously slanted lids and that sinful mouth. Holding you in place with strength that could leave prints into your soft legs. With one roll of your clit under his teeth, you feel in ways you never knew how, as if all the pressure that built up in your abdomen suddenly overflowed with a tight burst. Choked sobs and hand gripping his hair enough to make him moan into you, vibrating wonderfully as he works you through it.

He lets you go, remnants of syrupy arousal trickling down his chin; watches your legs fall open widely and your chest heave for air. Your features bring him joy, loving the way your hair sticks to your face with sweat, eyes closed, and brows knit together in concentration. He loved seeing you painted in warm hues and although he was never an artist, he could replicate this scene exactly how it’s displayed in front of him.

“How do you feel, lovely?”

You respond with a weak smile. “You’re so cruel… Min Yoongi.” You felt flimsy; weightless. A feeling you could come to love too much if you aren’t careful.

“I just wanted to make you feel good,” slithering back up to rest his head in your neck, giving you more kisses like you haven’t had enough. You’re happy he’s back, massaging your hands over his torso, up his neck, down his spine. And then you hit it and he tenses.

Thick and raised, an area between his wings that softly juts out. It was fairly large and the texture varied from the rest of his beautiful planes of skin. It was a scar. Wide as a dagger.

“I wish it wasn’t there. I know it’s—”

“Yoongi, baby.” You nudge him to lift his head and he does unwillingly, face turned away. “My Yoongi, it’s nothing. What happened was horrible but it’s over. And I will do everything in my power to make it up to you by giving all of me.”

His lips stop you tenderly, a whisper of affection that pours out love, “You didn’t do anything. In fact, you’ve made me better. I wasn’t able to feel anything for a long time until you. So. Thank you.”

Any remaining embarrassment vanishes. Not when Yoongi’s done his part and you would do anything to take care of him.

Sweat molds your bodies together, heat emanating from a fire that’s ablaze now. There’s a private summer in this room while winter continues outside and it feels special to you. It’s hot here, hot when Yoongi scrapes his teeth against yours, hot where his pelvis lays. You take notice to the hard thing twitching against your thigh, making you flinch.

“Ah, I’m sorry. And we’re in A Mood and all.” Yoongi snickers.

“Don’t be,” you purr, feeling a bit lustful and reaching down to grab it through the cloth.

He hisses, “Fuck! Fuck, please, I’m so sensitive at the moment.”

Ignoring him, you unskillfully maneuver your fingers around him. Just touching to be familiarized with it. He surges forward accidentally, sighing in your ear as he shamelessly humps the space between your groin. You use his distracted state to pull his shorts down, the sudden reality of his skin touching yours bringing about sensual noises from the both of you. A sudden spurt of precum makes it easier for him to drag his heavy cock against your hip.

“I’m sorry. It just feels so good.”

“Stop apologizing. I’ll help you.” You stare down as you flick your wrist, encircling him with fingers shaped in an o and pumping him slow.

“Squeeze,” he pleads and you oblige.

“Is it… supposed to be this large?” It’s a stupid question to ask, especially when you’re not entirely clueless. You know his size exceeds average proportions.

“Don’t spoil me. Seraphs have always been larger than humans. Height wise, I was the smallest of my brothers though.” Which seemed unimaginable to you, not when he towers over you and could easily devour you in a hug. Cock hanging low and barely able to keep in your single hand. He must be acting coy.

“Now you’re just bragging!”

“I’m just being honest. I’m automatically pleasing to the likes of you,” he chuckles.

The dampness overflows, smears over your skin in incredible amounts and how you wish you could taste out of pure curiosity, but he has other plans for you.

“I don’t think I can hold myself any longer. Please.”

“That’s… fine. Um, should we? Like this?”

“It’s so hot, could you flip on your side?” You roll and he figures he’s made a mistake. Entranced by the way your weight, breasts and soft curves, naturally gravitate down in a seductive pose.

“Like this?” You ask, unaware that he could simply die right now.

He lifts your leg to rest on his shoulder again, easy to stretch. “Perfect, my love. I’m going to go slow. If it’s too much we can try again another time, okay? No rush.”

Challenged by his kindness, you shake your head, “I’m fine. I’m ready.”

Whatever’s left of the arousal between you both is more than enough to let him enter easily. Head of his member no problem to push past that initial tension.

“Okay?”

“Okay.”

But it’s his shaft that makes you keen, entire length seeming endless as he fills you and overloads your maximum space. You cry, nerves making you writhe, “It’s not going to fit all the way—hah…wait.”

Yoongi struggles to hold himself back, perspiration dripping down his nose, “Are you okay? Does it hurt? It doesn’t need to, I’m pretty close to being all the way in anyway.”

“I’m fine,” you pant, head lolled to the side as he stretches you out in an odd, numbing way. “You can… you can move.”

His hips test it, pulling out so little to only be sucked back in with a leveled grunt. “Baby, you’re barely allowing me to.”

“It feels so tight,” you sigh, worried that if you move it’ll really begin to hurt.

“Ah, really? Let’s do this then.” He quick to please, wanting your pleasure before his own and getting you to flip, propped onto your elbows and filled from behind. Smooth chest meets your arched back, him hiding a kiss below your ear while he’s there. A moan aches in your throat as his dick unintentionally digs deeper inside, easier to move and to the hilt.

“Is this better, Y/N?”

“Hah… Yes. Yes, so much better. So good. Please move.”

His hips roll, just enough to grind into you which feels nothing but euphoric in itself. You mimic each other’s lusty whimpers with every movement. Caving into each other’s kisses and licks and pants that you feel synchronized.

Yoongi grows impatient with himself, exaggerating how he pulls out and slams himself back inside. The mere force that he fucks into you sends you forward, opting to lay on your chest and bite the blankets beneath you to keep from screaming. “You feel so good. So, so good. I’m sorry it hasn’t been long, but I feel like…”

His wings fall at his sides and cover you in shadow. It’s weird to see them like this, in a way you could imagine the perspective of having them yourself. But it covers you in unnecessary warmth and makes you grunt.

“It’s hot,” you admit with a quick breath, “Let me on top. I’ll finish.”

The way his member slides out; the way it leaves you tensing over nothing is a sad, needy feeling. You don’t slow at the chance to lay him down and take control, straddling him and watching his face contort in loving awe.

Sitting on him is an entirely different feeling and Yoongi keeps himself from cumming inside you right away, a choke in his throat. “Fuck, fuckfuckfcuk. Y/N, I won’t last like this for long please—”

“I’ll make it quick.” You lean over him, palms to the ground as you start moving, grinding and using him to your advantage. The nerves start again and you shake with pleasure.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”

Slender fingers dig into your velvety hips as he forces himself into you with harsh, quick jabs. “Baby, I have to cum.” He smooths his knuckles over your cheek, pulling you down into a tongue heavy-kiss in an impossibly fiery caress.

The ramming he enforces take incoherent sobs from your lips. You feel a ghost of a smile, sure Yoongi is enjoying your shameless display of indulgence; coming undone before his very eyes.

You arch into him, clenching tighter and falling onto his chest. With impeccable timing he pulls out, strings of hot white flooding between your stomachs.

“A lot,” you complain.

“Mmm. Because I’ve been waiting so long to have you.”

Without the pressure of moving, you lay on him despite the humidity. Petting the underside of his wings as they drape so gracefully against the blankets and the rug.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes?”

“I need to go home tomorrow.”

His heart sinks, “Oh?”

“To see my family. To come home and let them know I’m okay.”

“Yes, of course.” He’s afraid that you won’t come back, though.

“And… to turn down Taehyung’s proposal in person.”

Yoongi looks down and can’t see your face but he’s imagined it’s worried. “Y-Yeah?”

“Yeah. And Yoongi?”

He waits. You speak again, “Do you really want to be with me? For me to stay?”

“More than anything.”

He feels the tug of your cheeks on his chest; a wide smile.

“Then I’ll need to get my stuff.” And that makes him want to cry. After traumatic betrayal and years of loathing his punishment of isolation, he’s finally being let out of his cage. Free to be with someone that cares for him as much as he cares for you.

Your last thoughts remain on the fire and how it’s the only other entity to to swallow your talks, plans and confessions. Of his feathers like his arms as they fold in comfortably next to you, feeling like they’re meant to be there. Like you really were fated to be skin-to-skin with this man in his manor. Entwined by trust and love and an unprecedented future that would be everything as long as he’s in it. An irony of a useless girl and flightless wings.

Yoongi watches you fall under, wiping his thumb over your lips, trailing it down your chin and covering your naked body with his wing. Slumber finds him soon after, mind stuck on his self-epiphany that he had to lose his wings to gain you, and how incredibly lucky he is to have it that way.

a/n: ahAhaA, i’m sorry. please feel free to let me know what you think.

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