#shadow milk x reader angst | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

yunniverse · 3 months ago

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Important

౨ৎ PAIRING— kim hongjoong x reader

౨ৎ GENRE— angst, fluff, established relationship, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS— angst, argument but happy ending

౨ৎ WORD COUNT— 2.1k

౨ৎ SUMMARY— you expected hongjoong to remember, but he forgot.

౨ৎ A/N— hope you enjoy and tysm for reading!! feedback is appreciated!!

“One coffee, extra milk and sugar,” you tell the cashier at the coffee shop, understanding why he seems tired and looks as if he wants to get out of there and in his bed already. It’s almost midnight, after all. “That all?” he asks, looking about as uninterested as he possibly can. “No,” you clear your throat, not even having to look at the menu. “Another coffee, one sugar.” He nods slowly, placing the order before taking your card and swiping it. You wait by the door, checking your phone again, only to not see any messages from him, just as you expected.

Though, it still feels like a punch to the gut. You had already texted Yunho to ask where he is, even though you pretty much already knew. You look up when the cashier calls out your order, pushing off the wall to grab the drinks. “Thanks,” you tell him, offering him a half smile. “Have a good night.” “Mhm,” he responds as you walk out of the coffee shop, the bell ringing above the door. Getting into your car, you sigh as you place the drinks in the cup holders. It’s your one year anniversary of dating Hongjoong, and you honestly shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest that he obviously forgot.

You’ve tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, given the fact that Ateez is in the middle of promoting their new comeback, but it still hurt when he didn’t show up at the restaurant like he said he would.

You had even had to tell them to cancel the reservation, after you waited for nearly an hour for him to show up. As you drive, you try to stay calm, knowing it isn’t his fault completely, and he has way too much on his plate, but he could have told you he was too busy, right? When you pull up to KQ, you sigh yet again, grabbing the drinks as you open your door, met with a burst of cool air. Bringing the coffee inside with you, you slowly make your way to Hongjoong’s workplace. When you finally make it, you can’t help the small shadow of a smile that creeps onto your face when you see him hunched over in front of his computer, writing notes and humming.

He’s wearing an oversized t-shirt, which you hate to admit, because you’re supposed to be upset, looks amazing on him. His soft, brown hair is a little messy from running his fingers through it, but somehow he still looks beautiful. “Hongjoong?” you question softly, sighing when he doesn’t respond, still humming to himself amd writing. Gently placing the drinks on the table beside the door, you walk over to him quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder. With a small jolt, he turns to look at you, his face softening when he sees you. “Hey, baby,” he greets you with a warm smile, pushing the glasses up on his nose. “Hi,” you respond, rubbing your arm, as Hongjoong grabs your hand, trying to tug you a little closer, probably to give you a hug, but you shake your head, trying to shrug him off. He frowns, confused, “What’s wrong?” “You really forgot?” you question, hating how vulnerable you sound, but you can’t help it. Finally seeing him today had just snapped something inside of you, and now you feel like you’re on the verge of tears. “Forgot?” Hongjoong questions, his pretty brown eyes searching your face, flickering back and forth between your eyes, trying to read your emotions. “Our anniversary,” you inform him, hearing your voice shake slightly. Hongjoong’s face falls as he slumps in his chair, removing his glasses to rub his eyes before meeting your gaze again, seeing the disappointment in yours. “Oh, baby, I didn’t… You don’t… It wasn’t…? It was today?” You simply nod, sniffing in order to hold back the tears threatening to fall at any moment. “I set an alert so I wouldn’t forget, but I got so busy today that I haven’t checked my phone,” Hongjoong sighs. “I’m so sorry, baby. I truly didn’t mean to.” “I understand,” you nod once, stepping away from him. “You’re just busy. Work comes first. I’ve always known that.” “No, y/n,” Hongjoong shakes his head, reaching for you again, but you take another step back. “Please!” “No, Hongjoong,” you reach for the coffee, holding it out to him as you gesture at it. “I got your usual.” “Thanks, I-“ “But I’m gonna go.” “What?” Hongjoong’s eyebrows crease as he stands. “Why?” “You’re busy, and I’m a burden to your work,” you shrug, trying your best to sound unaffected, though you’re almost certain Hongjoong can see through your act. “It isn’t like that, y/n,” Hongjoong sighs, his shoulders lowering in defeat as he plays with the wrapping around the paper coffee cup. “What’s it like then, Joongie?” you ask, the nickname slipping out accidentally, you being to used to saying it. Hongjoong’s offers you a small smile at the nickname, as he takes a step toward you, hoping you won’t back away. “I genuinely didn’t mean to forget, baby, but between the comeback preparations and the fanmeet and performance earlier today, it just completely slipped my mind.” “I understand!” you suddenly snap, knowing you’re being unreasonable, but you just can’t seem to wrap you head around him forgetting your anniversary. “I understand, Joong.” “It isn’t about you understanding,” he responds, somehow remaining calm. “It’s about letting me apologize.” “I am letting you apologize,” you cross your arms, and Hongjoong sighs, looking down before fixing the glasses on his nose again. “Please, go right ahead.” Without another word, Hongjoong steps toward you, his arms wrapping around your stiff frame.

At first, you stiffen even more, but, the longer he perseveres, the more you find yourself melting into him. The soothing, faint scent of citrus and ginger slowly lures you to press your face into the soft skin of Hongjoong’s neck, breathing out a sigh as you relax into his warm embrace. “I really am sorry, baby,” he whispers into your hair, making a small whimper escape your lips, muffled by Hongjoong’s skin. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” “Really?” you ask, sniffling slightly as you pull back to look him in the eyes. “Yeah,” he breathes, pressing his forehead against yours as he speaks. “I’ll take you wherever you wanna go this weekend. Name it, we’ll be there.” “Joongie,” you frown a little, causing him to glance down at your lips, giving you a small pout when he sees your downturned expression. “I don’t need to go somewhere to be happy. I just want to spend time with you.” “But-“ You lift your hand, placing a finger against Hongjoong’s lips to silence him. “Honestly, that’s all I really wanted anyway. To talk to you and finally get to be with you again. It’s been way too long since we had an evening to ourselves, given your hard work all the time.”

Hongjoong’s gaze flickers across your face as he takes in your words, looking a little confused. “You didn’t want to go out tonight?” he asks softly. “No,” you shake your head a little, a small smile forming on your face. “Don’t get me wrong, it would’ve been fun, but what I really wanted was you.” “Just me?” he repeats, as if he can’t believe it. “I love you, Joongie,” you laugh a little. “All I ever want is your attention.” He glances down, a small blush spreading across his cheeks, but he soon gets himself under control, meeting your gaze again. “Then, we’ll have a movie night this weekend. Just you, me, snacks, a movie, and cuddles. Does that sound nice?” “Sounds perfect,” you sigh, this time in content, as Hongjoong grins, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, making your eyelids flutter closed, thoroughly enjoying his kiss, especially since it’s been so long since you’ve had a kiss from Hongjoong. When he finally pulls away, you grin cheekily, “But, only on one condition.” “What’s that?” Hongjoong asks, furrowing his eyebrows. “Wear this outfit,” you smile shyly, eyeing his earrings and his necklace. “You look so hot.” Hongjoong reddens, taken by surprise, as he averts eye contact, groaning a little in embarrassment, “Babyy.” “Hm?” you hum, blinking innocently. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he responds, still blushing. “Plus, I’m barefaced.” “And?” you question, quirking an eyebrow. “You look beautiful with or without makeup. Don’t make me convince you again.” He yelps as you playfully pinch his sides in warning, causing him to jump away from you a little. “Okay, okay.” With a giggle, you let him grab your hand, pulling you toward his rolling chair. “Wanna sit with me and watch me work for a little while?” “I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to watch my cute boyfriend work,” you respond cheekily, making Hongjoong groan again, trying to hide his blush. “Stop, baby,” he pouts at you, making you laugh. “I love you,” you tell him suddenly, making him turn to look at you. “And I’m sorry I freaked out earlier.” “Don’t apologize,” Hongjoong responds sternly, grabbing your hand and gently pulling you toward him from his position seated in his chair. “It’s completely my fault that I forgot, and I promise I’ll do better about that. You’re so much more important to me than work. I know I don’t prove it often enough, but it’s true. I hope you know that I love you so, so much.” “I know, Joongie,” you smile, your hands moving to his head, carefully pushing his soft hair away from his face.

His eyelids flutter closed at the feeling, a small sigh escaping his lips. “And remembering anniversaries isn’t the most important thing in a relationship anyway. You’re the best boyfriend I could ask for, even if you forget important dates.” Hongjoong’s eyes open at that, though the frown that grows on his face is sleepy as he speaks, “What else have I forgotten?” “Don’t you remember when you forgot you were meeting my parents a few months ago?” you ask pointedly. “Oh, right,” Hongjoong mumbles in response. “Well, at least they still liked me.” “Who wouldn’t like you?” you giggle, letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp, earning another soft sigh from the man in front of you, whose head falls softly against your stomach. “They want to see you again, you know.” Hongjoong hums, his eyes closed as you speak softly. After a few moments of talking about your family, you continue, “Are you working on a song?” When you don’t get a response, you glance down, a little confused. “Aw, baby,” you whisper, when you realize he fell asleep against you.

With the hands still buried in Hongjoong’s hair, you gently push his head off of you, enough to see his face, smiling when you notice his glasses are still on. You gently move his head to lean against your left arm as you carefully remove the glasses before shifting to lean against his desk. A smile appears on your face when you hear Hongjoong mumbling something. You feel your heartbeat speed up when you realize he’s saying ‘I love you.’ “I love you, too, Joongie,” you respond softly before your eyes find the coffee on the table, and you shake your head, laughing slightly. “The coffee’s gone cold, now, and you didn’t even drink any.” When you get no response, as expected, you gently rake your fingers through his hair again, this time eliciting a small groan from Hongjoong. Your eyes widen as you laugh, your slight shaking jostling Hongjoong awake. “What happened?” he asks, his voice low and slurred with sleep. “Nothing, baby,” you giggle, collecting yourself. “Would you like to move to the couch?” He nods, letting you move away, though he still whines at the loss of warmth. “You’re being very vocal today, Joong,” you quirk an eyebrow down at him as he moves to stand. “You definitely need sleep.” “Gotta work,” he replies, but doesn’t resist as you guide him toward the couch. “You can finish work tomorrow,” you tell him, settling down on the couch and pulling him with you gently. He collapses onto the couch, his face finding your neck as your fingers automatically find his hair again. You grab the blanket draped over the back of the couch, pulling it over both of you. “Goodnight, Joongie.” “G’night, baby, and happy anniversary,” he mumbles against you, causing a smile to grow on your face as you tighten your grip, letting out a small sigh of content. And, as you press a gentle, lingering kiss to the top of his head, you realize that, even though Hongjoong did forget your anniversary, it isn’t even what is really important. What’s important is the love you two share all the time, whether you can be together a lot or not. “Happy anniversary, Hongjoong.”

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soaps-mohawk · 12 hours ago

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s quiet in the house.

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws.

You’re the flawed one.

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind.

Something is off. Something is wrong.

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.”

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom.

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare.

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore.

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light.

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move.

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep.

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance.

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about.

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie.

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie.

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long.

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on.

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years.

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art.

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze.

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.”

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants.

“You’re alright.”

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart.

“...sleepwalking I think...”

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth.

“Almost hit her head...”

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.”

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot.

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.”

“Is this something we need to worry about now?”

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?”

She’s talking to you now.

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head.

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least.

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?”

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes.

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?”

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.”

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says.

You can’t help but wince at his words.

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“I think it might be good to talk about it.”

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.”

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.”

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly.

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look.

You choose to ignore it.

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening.

Can you be brave enough to share?

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...”

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that.

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.”

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed.

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him.

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.”

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper.

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours.

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories.

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is.

How...disarming his face is.

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.”

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore.

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you.

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach.

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours.

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm.

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.”

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.”

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.”

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day.

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone.

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him.

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand.

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit.

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.”

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot.

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage.

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table.

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.”

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?”

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.”

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out.

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says.

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside.

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.”

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.”

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug.

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.”

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table.

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow.

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older.

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now.

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now.

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food.

“You doing alright?”

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you.

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.”

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes.

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you.

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.”

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.”

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended.

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.”

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles.

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.”

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.”

Next Halloween.

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here?

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps.

Not from him.

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan.

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you.

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.”

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.”

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze.

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head.

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now.

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head.

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you.

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.”

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.”

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.”

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks.

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn’t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.”

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more.

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other.

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again.

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it.

You’re not sure what to feel anymore.

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.”

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers.

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control.

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute.

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.”

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?”

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.”

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her.

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.”

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more.

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge.

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders.

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do.

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling.

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall.

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts.

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door.

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side.

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand.

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question.

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once.

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says.

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.”

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says.

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues.

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that.

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along.

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt.

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree.

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.”

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them.

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool.

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts.

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away.

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it.

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.”

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.”

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.”

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin.

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage.

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname.

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants.

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you.

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory.

The worst he can say is no.

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point.

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong.

“Okay.” He says.

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying.

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.”

“I’ll go.”

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting.

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel.

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise.

“Really?” You ask in disbelief.

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone.

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.”

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip.

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you.

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.”

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot.

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility.

There’s another rift in the bonds.

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John.

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.”

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake.

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far.

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust.

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you.

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.”

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks.

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too.

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that.

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both?

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make.

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort.

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.”

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?”

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.”

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel.

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you.

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well.

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies.

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it.

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it.

You grab one, putting it in the cart.

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look.

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him.

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task.

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want.

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house.

You put it in the cart.

Now Simon. The hardest of the four.

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently.

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart.

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.”

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.”

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon.

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout.

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well.

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller.

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath.

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly.

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you.

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again.

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed.

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you.

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says.

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head.

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again.

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter.

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.”

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness.

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what.

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.”

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.”

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed.

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder.

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door.

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision.

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you.

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree.

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head.

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise.

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back.

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it.

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes.

“What do you think?” Kyle asks.

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.”

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.”

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items.

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight.

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got.

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage.

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all.

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks.

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.”

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away.

“I think she likes it.”

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.”

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile.

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks.

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.”

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table.

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.”

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.”

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly.

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.”

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.”

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.”

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#call of duty #cod fic #call of duty fic #john price x reader #captain price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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taevbears · 1 year ago

Text

Movie Night

When horror movies don't scare you anymore, your boyfriend wants to figure out what you are afraid of.

⤑ pairing: Jungkook x fem!reader (feat. the Daegu boys) ⤑ genre: horror, mystery, suspense, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 6.1k ⤑ warnings: obsessive behavior, stalking, depictions of kidnapping, torture, and multiple murders, hidden camera, non-explicit sex, a bit of angst, open ending. this fic gets pretty dark, so please be cautious of the warnings! ⤑ note: happy halloween! this started as a little spooky shower thought i had a little over a month ago and became this lol. i love reading scary stories, but lmao, i feel like i'm not very good at writing them. thank you @angelicyoongie for assuring me that this isn't as terrible as i think it is. also please note that this is a work of fiction and i don't think IRL jungkook is like the character in this fic at all

“No, please! Don’t hurt me!”

The shadow of a muscular, male figure looms over the female protagonist. His breaths are heavy from chasing her around, barely visible against the chilly, October air. Finally, he has her cornered. He holds up a sharp knife in the air.

The woman trembles on the ground, sobbing and pleading for her life to be spared. Mascara runs down her cheeks, and a look of hopelessness and despair fills her eyes. She holds her hands in front of her in a feeble attempt to defend herself.

The camera pans away as the killer violently stabs the woman. Her terrifying screams of pain and anguish echoes from the TV screen as fake blood splatters on the wall.

Blue and white light bathes over you and your date in the dim living room. You try to suppress a long yawn with the back of your hand.

You’re so bored, you’re practically in tears.

“You didn’t like it?” Jungkook asks you, chuckling at your reaction.

“It didn’t scare me,” you admit sheepishly, hoping he doesn’t get the wrong idea.

You love horror movies. It’s what inspired you to become a film student. You love being on the edge of your seat from the thrill and suspense that the main character acts out. You love being genuinely shocked from unexpected twists and jump-scares. You love a good ghost story that haunts you long after the credits roll, or the paranoia of a similar terrifying incident happening to you.

But perhaps, over time, they’ve lost a bit of their magic.

Although the production of movies has become phenomenal in recent years, movies these days seem to rely too heavily on shock value and nostalgia. Once popular franchises are milking out their legacies to a newer audience. There are so many retellings of the same, old stories that you can already accurately predict what will happen before you reach the ending. Even some of the most climactic scenes of the movie are so over-the-top, they’re almost comical.

Honestly, it has nothing to do with your date or even the so-called horror movie itself. You just don’t scare as easily anymore.

Jungkook peers are you curiously, a boyish grin on his face. “Then, what are you scared of?”

“I don’t know. Probably nothing.”

“Yeah? That’s a bold statement.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

Jungkook laughs. “You have to be scared of something.”

You throw the question back at him. “Then, what are you afraid of?”

He thinks about it, rubbing his chin in thought and pushing his tongue against the lip rings on his mouth. Then, he meets your gaze. There’s a sparkle in his eyes as he smiles at you. “Hmm, I think I’d be scared to lose you.”

You find yourself smiling back at him.

“You’re so sweet, Kook,” you tell him, leaning over to kiss him.

Only recently, you and Jungkook started dating officially, and you really like him a lot. He’s very cute, funny, handsome, and perfect in many ways. Butterflies flutter in your stomach when you’re around him, and there’s still that exciting giddiness and eagerness of new love whenever he messages you or visits you in the evening.

In some ways, Jungkook is almost too good to be true.

Part of you wonders if there’s a catch.

But with his lips on yours, it’s easy to push that thought aside.

Credits roll on the screen as the movie comes to an end. His fingers glide up your thigh as yours tangle into his hair. The cool piercing on his lips presses against your bottom lip as he slips his tongue in your mouth, and a soft moan escapes you.

Suddenly, Jungkook pulls away and faces the TV. He uses the remote to tap out of the movie credits and browse through the list of recommended shows on your streaming service. Casually, trying to hide a teasing smirk, he asks, “How about we watch a different movie, then?”

You stare back at him, a bit stunned and flustered. But your own smile touches your lips.

“Or,” you suggest, grabbing his wrist to lower the remote. He turns away from the screen to look at you, eyes lingering on the sultry smile on your lips. “I know something else we can do instead.”

When you first saw Jungkook, you thought you were being catfished.

His selfie on the dating app included a slight head tilt, a pucker of his pierced lips, and a peace sign. Big, doe-shaped eyes stared back at you from your phone screen, and you noticed the tiny moles below his lip, on the tip of his nose, and on his cheek.

The second picture was of him and his brown doberman, affectionately named Bam. The picture was taken of them outside. One of his hands was holding a tennis ball and the other was gently touching the dog’s long ears. A small, fond smile tugged on your lips when you looked between them and realized that they kind of looked alike.

The third picture was him at the gym. It was a back-shot where he was using the equipment. Broad shoulders, buff arms and back, a tiny waist. You stared way too long at his strong muscles and the ink on his arm before you finally swiped right.

Turned out, much to your surprise, he liked your pictures too. The two of you were a match.

And it wasn’t long until he sent his first message to you. In your inbox, a simple: “hey :)”

On your first date, the two of you agreed to meet at a very public, very crowded bistro. You stood nervously by the building, dressed nice for the occasion. And in case anything went wrong or if this Jungkook guy wasn’t who you expected him to be, you shared your location and had a “send help lol” message on standby for your bestie, Min Yoongi.

As you waited, scrolling through and jumping around different apps on your phone, you found yourself to be surprised yet again.

Someone who looked like the guy you’ve been chatting with called out your name. And soon, he was standing in front of you: big eyes, bigger muscles, tiny beauty marks on his face, colorful ink on his arm, a charming smile, and a simple, “Hey, I’m Jungkook.”

One date turned to a second date. Then, a third. And by the fourth date, as he laid in your bed that night and snuggled close to you, it finally started to sink in that Jungkook wasn’t some figment of your imagination.

He was real, and sweet, and seemed to really like you as well.

Jungkook, like you, had an interest in filming. He especially liked editing videos for his dance challenges, short clips, and a series he called “Golden Closet Film” on his channel. While you imagined yourself to be a big director, working in movie sets, and making scripts come to life with your vision, Jungkook told you he’d like to film a project where you’re the star.

“I don’t think I’m on-screen material,” you replied, amused by the idea. You’re not an actress. You don’t think you have the kind of beauty filmmakers seek out for their lead roles. Hell, if anything, Jungkook would be a better fit for an acting gig.

“You are,” he insisted, brushing his thumb against your knuckles. “To me, you’re perfect.”

You smiled at him then, your heart fluttering by his words. “You are to me, too.”

It was shortly after that conversation when you both decided to date each other exclusively. And it felt like the kind of romance you’d see in the movies. Picture perfect, a little corny at times, and a thrilling whirlwind of laughter, teasing remarks, and intimate touches.

“Am I who you thought I’d be?” Jungkook asks you the next morning after the movie-night bust, propping himself up on the side and peering down on you. His arm flexes, colorful ink decorating it, as the thick comforter wraps around his bare body.

“No,” you confessed, still a bit tired from last night. You keep your eyes closed as you quietly murmur, “You’re even better.”

“Yeah?”

You don’t need to open your eyes to see the pleased look on his face. As you feel him press his lips against your cheek, you ask, “What about me? Am I who you thought I’d be?”

Had you opened your eyes then, perhaps you would’ve seen it. The blank look on his face as he pulls away from you, how the light in his eyes suddenly seems to vanish, as if he isn’t really looking at you anymore.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you right away. When you open your eyes, you see him shaking his head. The same, sweet boyish smile appears on his lips.

“You’re exactly what I’m looking for.”

The topic about exes inevitably came up early on in your relationship with Jungkook. You’ve dated casually before. Even thought you’d be getting somewhere with some of the guys you were talking to.

But none of them quite compared to Kim Taehyung.

You were a film student. He was a photography major. The two of you were bound to end up in some of the same classes together in the art division.

To you, it was love at first sight. You fell for him so hard and so fast.

What started as bumping into each other at the library and helping each other with assignments led to making out at each other’s dorms with the text books left unopened. Coffee dates between classes became anniversary dinners at nice restaurants. He introduced you to his parents, and you proposed going on a romantic getaway together.

The day you didn’t think you’d ever love anyone else was when he snapped a photo of you looking out at the scenery during that weekend trip. It was just you and him, and a natural setting that looked straight out of a movie.

He smiled to himself as he looked at the picture through his camera. That day, he called you his muse.

And in return, you told him that you loved him.

When you fell for Taehyung, you fell hard and fast. Eventually, it occurred to you that Taehyung didn’t do the same.

Sure, he cared about you. Sure, he loved you. But while you heard wedding bells and dreamed about your future with him, Taehyung was just starting to put himself out there in the world. His art was being recognized, and he was getting booked to shoot at weddings, parties, and other big events every week.

Soon, the dates happened less frequently. The romantic gestures of bringing you flowers, surprising you on nice dates or small gifts, or even renting your favorite movies to watch together happened even less. He would promise that he’d make it to a party or an important event to you, just to let you down. And it felt like him giving you a bit of affection or attention was a chore.

Taehyung was the world to you, but the petty arguments and the distance that started growing between you two made it clear to you where his priorities were. And it wasn’t with you.

Breaking up with him was the hardest thing you had to do. Both of you knew it was coming. It was just a matter of who broke up with who first.

Just as Taehyung came into your life, quickly and effortlessly, he was gone. Nothing but bittersweet memories of what once was and what could have been weighed heavily on you for months.

What made it worse was that Taehyung, a man you loved with all your heart, had moved on from you so fast and so easily.

You saw him and his new girlfriend at a mutual friend’s party. You were warned that he’d be there, that he was already seeing someone. But it still hurt like hell to see him happy and in love with another person.

But if Taehyung could move on, so could you.

It felt weird at first, but you started to put yourself out there again. You joined dating apps. You went out with the people that fancied your interest. You met Jungkook.

And from there, everything was history.

With Jungkook, you started to think about Taehyung a lot less. The plaguing “what ifs” have quieted down, and the hurt from heartbreak began to heal. With Jungkook, you started to feel like yourself again: you started to smile more, laugh more loudly, enjoy watching movies again, became passionate about cinematic ideas you’d like to create one day.

With Jungkook, you’re also cautiously optimistic.

Because like Taehyung, you feel yourself falling hard and fast for Jungkook. It’s almost scary how truly perfect he is.

“I think you’re just psyching yourself out,” Yoongi tells you, sliding into the chair opposite of you with two cups of coffee in his hands. He smells like freshly-baked cookies. A spot of flour stains his apron as he uses his fifteen-minute break to hang out with you.

“Maybe,” you sigh, gratefully taking the drink he hands you. “What do you think about him?”

“Does my opinion even matter at this point? You’re in love with him,” he drawls before taking a sip of his Iced Americano.

“Of course it does, best friend. Why else would I keep you around?” you remark, taking a sip of your own drink. “Besides the free coffee and cookies. Thank you, by the way.”

He rolls his eyes. The perks of being friends with the cookie boy at your local bakery is a free cup of coffee and getting dibs on leftover treats that didn’t sell the day.

“He’s fine. Kind of annoying. A little too energetic,” he answers as his eyes flit toward the TV screen that his boss keeps on. A woman dressed in bright, business clothing holds a microphone as she reports on the recent news. There’s a grim look on her face.

You have your back turned to it, but you can hear Yoongi’s boss turning up the volume.

Breaking news. Missing woman found dead near home. The victim has succumbed to multiple stab wounds. It is believed that she has been kidnapped and tortured prior to her violent death. The attacker is currently unknown and still at large. Local authorities advise staying indoors and to please report any suspicious activity.

Your heart sinks as you look over your shoulder, seeing police taping off the crime scene and answering what they can to the news outlets. The location is so close to where you are.

“This is the second victim,” a customer mutters with a frown.

The person they’re with nods their head and asks, “Do you think they’re connected?”

“I don’t know. I hope not. We’ll have a serial killer in our hands.”

“Hey,” Yoongi calls your attention. When you look at him, there’s concern on his face. “If you need a ride anywhere, make sure you call me. Doesn’t matter what time.”

“I’ll be okay, Yoongi. Jungkook usually comes to my place anyway.”

“Still. Just let me know that you’re still alive when I check in, all right?” he says as he stares at the screen. You don’t blame him for being worried. As you follow his gaze, you see a picture of the latest victim of the ongoing case that has the whole town on edge.

This woman, like the others, kind of looks like you.

“If you’re with me, you have nothing to worry about,” Jungkook assures you, throwing a tennis ball as Bam hurriedly chases after it.

The two of you are at a park with his dobermann. Despite how scary it’s been lately with the news, it’s a nice day. Children are screaming and playing together on the playground as their parents watch them nearby. A group of teenage boys are playing basketball on the outdoor court. Middle-aged and elderly couples are paired up and are getting their daily steps in.

“My hero,” you joke half-heartedly, but you’re still a bit concerned. Yoongi being worried about you makes you feel paranoid.

Jungkook turns to you. He holds out his hand as Bam retrieves the ball and drops it for another throw. “I thought you weren't afraid of anything.”

“Movie-wise, I’m not. But this is different.”

Jungkook throws the slobbery ball again. Further this time as Bam barks happily and takes off. He takes a seat next to you on the park bench. “I can leave Bam with you when I have my evening shifts. He makes a good guard dog.”

He works as an editor and cameraman for a big content creator, which gives him lots of flexible hours to work on his projects when he isn’t busy filming. Since the beginning of autumn, his boss has been giving him evening work to film ghost-hunting videos and other spooky content for Halloween.

“That’ll be nice,” you reply with a small smile. The two of them have been coming to your place so often, it might as well be their second home.

From a short distance, Bam lies on the grass with the tennis ball by his paws. His tongue is out, needing a short break from running around, as he faces you and Jungkook. Even with other dogs and kids around, he’s very well-behaved.

Just as Jungkook tells you that he’ll get Bam, the sound of small, excited barks grab your attention. A familiar black and brown pomeranian approaches you like an old friend, wagging its tail and perking its ears up when it sees you.

Your heart nearly jumps when you recognize the dog.

“Tan!”

You know that voice. How could you not?

That deep, smooth baritone has haunted you for months.

Taehyung, your ex-boyfriend, stops in his tracks when he realizes why his pomeranian took off. The two of you were still together when he adopted Yeontan, and you were there to help raise him when he was still a puppy.

“Who’s this?” Jungkook asks, drawing your attention back to him. He reaches out to pet Yeontan, but the pomeranian growls at him. Almost like he wants to protect you from him.

“Sorry, he’s mine,” Taehyung apologizes, stepping closer to you two and picking his dog up. He looks at you as he tries to soothe the agitated Yeontan in his arms. “It’s been a while. How’ve you been?”

“Good,” you reply politely. Old feelings start to pull on your heart strings that you fervently try to ignore. “I’m good.”

“You look good,” Taehyung starts, but then he purses his lips in regret. It’s obvious that he’s nervous to talk to you. Maybe he feels the same as you.

Softly, you reply, “You do, too.”

“Who’s this?” Jungkook repeats. This time, there’s an annoyed look on his face as he stares at Taehyung.

It puts you off a bit. Jungkook is usually a friendly guy.

“Oh, this is Taehyung. We used to date,” you tell him honestly. Though, the information seems to just annoy him more. “Taehyung, this is—”

“I’m Jungkook. She’s my girlfriend now.”

His arm snakes around you possessively. He holds a steady gaze, but it’s a look you’ve never seen on him before. Dark, threatening, and angry. It’s almost unnerving.

“I see…” Taehyung trails off as his gaze shifts toward him. Yeontan is still in his arms, growling and barking at Jungkook. You don’t think you’ve ever seen the pup so aggressive toward someone. Even Bam comes over, ditching his ball to guard over you and Jungkook.

“It was nice to see you, Taehyung,” you tell him, sensing the tension in the air and deciding to cut things off. He seems reluctant to leave.

“Yeah…” he continues to trail off, finally pulling his gaze away to look at you. It looks like there’s a million things he wants to say to you. In a lower tone, he tells you, “My number is still the same. If you ever want to talk.”

You frown. After the breakup, you’ve deleted his number and unfollowed him on social media. “Oh, I don’t—”

“Then I’ll call you,” he promises, firm with his decision.

You don’t get it. You and Taehyung have run into each other after the breakup before, and he’s never had an issue with you dating anyone after him. He clearly has moved on, and so have you.

Why now?

What is it about Jungkook that has him worried for you?

“I don’t like that guy.”

Jungkook is still heated as he drives you home. His grip is tight around the steering wheel, and the tires screech when he makes a sharp turn. Bam stumbles a bit in the back before sticking his head out the window again.

“Slow down, Kook. You have nothing to be worried about.”

The radio blasts in the car, too much in a rush to connect his playlist to the stereo. It’s playing the week’s top music, and a catchy song from a popular artist fills the car.

Curious, you open your phone and check your followers. You’ve unfollowed Taehyung a long time ago on all your social platforms, finding it hard to look at any of his recent pictures – even just his scenic photography – without thinking about how he had once called you his muse.

But Taehyung never unfollowed you. He had always kept his inbox open for you.

“Did you see the way he was looking at me? It’s like he was looking down on me,” he continues to rant, speeding over a yellow light. He glances over at you and sees that you’re distracted with your phone. “I don’t like how you were looking at him either.”

“Are you serious?” you ask, turning your attention to him. “We barely talked. What the hell are you trying to insinuate?”

On the radio, the program is interrupted. One of the hosts makes a grim announcement.

Ladies and gentlemen, we just received unfortunate news that a third body has been found pertaining to a series of brutal deaths.

“You still love him! You’ll go back and leave me again!” he suddenly snaps, throwing you off guard.

Silence follows the tension.

Then, you inquire, “Again?”

The third victim is a young female. Hair color and eye color match the previous victims as well, indicating that this might be a targeted attack by the killer.

Not once have you been unfaithful to Jungkook. Even when you were starting to message each other, you weren’t talking to anyone else. The two of you haven’t even been dating that long.

“Forget I said anything,” he starts with a frustrated sigh. But he realizes he’s fucked up.

“No, I’m not just going to forget it. What do you mean by that, Jungkook?”

As of now, authorities have no leads on a suspect. All victims have been kidnapped, tied up, and tortured prior to their deaths. We are led to believe that this is the work of a potential serial killer.

He nearly slams to a stop. The seatbelt around you yanks you back from hitting the dashboard. Bam falls to the floor and you gasp as the back of your head hits your seat.

Jungkook doesn’t answer you, but for the first time, it feels like the rose-tinted glasses you have on him have fallen off. He’s always been perfect to you: sweet, athletic, talented, and kind. But the Jungkook before you is someone completely different.

This Jungkook scares you.

Stay inside. Lock your doors. Call the police if you see anything suspicious. Be safe out there, folks.

“I told you to forget about it, didn’t I?” he asks through gritted teeth and a harsh look in his eye.

You nod your head, hands trembling a bit as you hold onto your vibrating phone. The screen shows an unknown number trying to contact you.

“Is there a reason why your boyfriend called me?” Yoongi asks you from the other line. He has you on face-time, awkwardly propping up the camera to show his elbow as he mixes a batch of cookies.

It’s been about a week since you saw Jungkook.

After he dropped you off at home, he wanted to put it all behind him. He kissed you sweetly and murmured apologies for overreacting as his hands slipped under your shirt. But you sent him home before he could convince you to sleep with him. You were still upset about how hostile he was toward Taehyung, his accusations about you, and what his outburst meant.

That hasn’t stopped him from trying to get back to your good graces, though.

The number of missed calls from him keeps increasing by the hour. Ones that you leave unanswered or send straight to your voicemail.

You don’t want to talk to him.

At your door, you hear him rapping his knuckles against the wooden frame and insistently ringing at your doorbell. From the other side of the door, he begs for a chance to explain.

You don’t want to see him.

Clearly, after reaching you directly hasn’t worked, he’s starting to contact your friends.

“He’s probably trying to find me,” you tell Yoongi, poking at a bowl of fresh strawberries. You’re still dressed in your pajamas, sitting on a stool by the kitchen counter.

The sound of a small dog can be heard in the background of your line. It dawns on him that you’re not at your place or Jungkook’s.

Yoongi is silent for a moment. Then, he grabs the phone and asks, “What do you mean? Where are you?”

You don’t feel safe in your own home. And that day, while you were in Jungkook’s car, Taehyung called to check up on you. He was always good at reading people, and he warned you that he had a bad vibe about Jungkook.

And you’re starting to see what he meant.

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

When you turn your phone, you reveal Taehyung busy in the kitchen, cutting off the crusts from his sandwiches. He looks over his shoulder and gives a sheepish smile at the scandalized expression on your best friend’s face. “Hey Yoongi.”

“Can you please explain what’s going on? Why are you at your ex’s?”

So, you do. You tell him that Jungkook wouldn’t leave you alone, that you needed some space to cool off but he wouldn’t let you breathe. It was becoming overbearing and overwhelming.

Against your better judgment, you call Taehyung. He invites you to stay over at his place until you’re ready to talk things out with Jungkook. Because even if you’re not together, he still cares about you. Because a part of him will always love you. And at the time, it seemed like a good idea.

“I didn’t want to be alone, especially with a killer targeting women like me out there,” you explain quietly. It feels like the murders have increased in a shorter period of time. If the town wasn’t on edge before, they certainly are now. “But I was still mad at Jungkook, and he was starting to scare me.”

“So the first person you go to is your ex-boyfriend?”

“There’s nothing going on between us.”

That ship has sailed. You know it has when you walked in and saw his engagement pictures hanging on the wall.

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I’m sure he would’ve figured out that I’d be with you,” you tell him with a frown.

“I just wanted to help her, hyung,” Taehyung adds as he stands behind you. “I worry about her too. That guy gives me and Tan a bad feeling.”

Yoongi sighs. “Listen, I don’t think this is a good idea either. You shouldn’t stay with Taehyung. It’ll just make things look a lot worse.”

“I guess you’re right,” you reluctantly agree. Taehyung grimaces, but he can see Yoongi’s point too.

“I’ll pick you up after my shift. You can stay with me until you’re ready to talk to Jungkook,” Yoongi tells you, looking rather serious. “Don’t do anything stupid in the meantime, okay?”

Hey. It’s Jungkook.

You stare at the message on your phone. Three dots that indicate that he’s typing something, but he keeps erasing and re-typing them again. As if he’s trying to properly convey his words.

Are we breaking up?

You stare at that message even longer. It feels childish to break up with him without trying to talk to him. For the first time in a week, you pick up your phone and type back.

You scared me, Kook.

His response is immediate.

I thought you weren’t scared of anything.

You huff when you realize he’s teasing you, even now.

Movie-wise, I’m not. But this. This is different, Kook. You were really scaring me.

Again, you see the dots appear and disappear before a handful of responses appear.

I know, babe. I’m sorry. Can you please come over? I want to show you something I’ve been working on.

You think about it.

I miss you. Bam misses you too.

Yoongi said not to do anything stupid.

Please, baby. We can just watch a movie, if you want.

But, like in every horror movie, the protagonist finds themselves making a plethora of stupid decisions.

Okay, Kook. I’ll come tonight.

Movie nights with Jungkook was one of the things you always looked forward to throughout the week. Nothing appealed to you more than a night-in with your boyfriend, food delivered at your door, and checking out new shows and movies.

You have your list of favorites, but nothing quite holds a place in your heart than a good ol’ horror movie. Tellings of urban legends, supernatural forces, paranormal activities, true crime, and slasher films.

As you step into Jungkook’s house, it almost feels like you’re in one of those movies.

His place is dark, almost pitched black. You could barely see what’s in front of you.

“Come inside,” Jungkook says, grabbing your hand. He pulls you in and deadbolts the door behind you.

“It’s so dark,” you remark, gingerly stepping forward. You have a bad feeling about this. You almost pull back toward the door, thinking of waiting for Yoongi or going back to Taehyung instead.

But Jungkook has a firm grip on you. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”

“This is different, Kook,” you try to reason. “You’re really freaking me out.”

He pulls you further inside. In the living room, nothing but the TV is on. The screen is paused on a homemade film.

This must be the project that Jungkook is talking about.

Everything is set. The living room is clean, a bowl of popcorn and a couple bottles of alcohol sits on the coffee table, the lights are off, and the show is ready to play. He sits you down in the middle and keeps an arm around you.

“You know, when we met, you were exactly what I was looking for,” he starts as he presses play.

The tape shows you. Bam lying on your lap as you affectionately pet his face and kiss the top of his head. You, holding Jungkook’s hand and leading him down a busy sidewalk. You, in the kitchen, trying to swat his hand away as he steals your ingredients. You and Jungkook, peering into the camera lens, and your bashful face as he kisses your cheek.

A smile tugs on your lips as you watch yourself on the screen. Jungkook leans over, copying his onscreen self and kisses your face.

One thing you liked about filming is seeing things from a different perspective. In this case, seeing yourself through Jungkook’s eyes. You look so happy, so incredibly in love with him.

Like with Taehyung, you fell for Jungkook hard and fast.

But Jungkook fell for you harder and faster.

Your smile fades as the next scene shows.

The camera points to the bed, and a couple walks in. It’s you and Jungkook, stumbling in together after drinks at a bar. You’re laughing and trying to wrap your arms around him as he leads you onto the bed. The kiss you share is messy, heated. You tug off his clothes to feel more of him.

You remember that night, but…

“Jungkook. When did you record this?”

You had no idea he was filming you then.

You don’t realize it then, but he makes eye contact with the camera, as if to check that it’s on. He maneuvers you to get a good angle of your body as you busy yourself with your own clothes, wanting him to touch you more as well.

“Jungkook, stop. I didn’t—”

You feel so sick to your stomach.

“Don’t cry, baby. Here, I’ll fast-forward.”

But you don’t want to watch anymore. You want to leave. You shouldn’t have come here.

The screen shows you and Yoongi. The two of you are at the bakery he works at, and you’re wearing an old cardigan that you got rid of . You smile and eagerly reach for one of the coffees in his hands and take the bag of cookies he’s holding between his lips. He rolls his eyes at something you say before he takes his first sip of his Iced Americano. It’s a typical hangout between you and him.

It looks like it was taken across the street. Your heart plummets even further when you realize that the old cardigan you’re wearing was a piece of clothing you got rid of before you met Jungkook.

The scene changes. You’re sitting at the fountain at your university, looking over a script you wrote for an assignment. Taehyung comes to take a seat next to you. He greets you with a boxy smile and a kiss. The two of you were still dating at the time.

How long has Jungkook known about you?

How long has he been targeting you?

It’s you and Taehyung again. This time, it was filmed from the other night. When Taehyung came to pick you up from your house. He helps you carry some of your things into his car and hugs you when he sees the distressed look on your face.

“Jungkook, what the fuck?”

It dawns on you that you don’t really know your boyfriend at all.

You try to stand up, but Jungkook has a firm hold on you. His grip tightens when you try to resist him, and his hand seizes your neck as he pushes you down. Your heart hammers against your ribs when you quickly realize you can’t escape him. Jungkook is much stronger and faster than you are.

More images flash through the screen. It’s Jungkook this time, taking a mirror-selfie of himself dressed in all black. He has his hood up and a Halloween mask covering his face.

It cuts to his feet walking across the sidewalk. Carefully, the camera tilts up, showing that there’s a woman just ahead of him. She’s about your height, her hair the same as yours. She doesn’t notice him as she listens to music playing in her earbuds.

The scene cuts again, and the same woman is bound and gagged on a chair. Fear shines through her eyes as a shadow of a knife reflects from her body. Behind the camera, Jungkook demands, “Say your line.”

He removes the gag from her mouth. Her voice pitches in a high shrill as she quickly says, “I-I love you. I won’t leave you.”

You recognize her as the latest victim of the latest killings.

And the realization hits you like a truck. Jungkook and his night shifts, the increasing deaths, his interest in filming, having you as the star.

“I practiced, you know. I’ll get it right this time,” he tells you, pulling out some rope he had hidden behind the cushion. You’re trembling as he wraps them tightly around your wrist. “I’ll make sure you don’t leave me again.”

“You’re so bad,” the Jungkook on the screen says, showing what looks like an abandoned warehouse. It’s dimly lit, but you can hear someone running from him. But he doesn’t seem worried, his heavy footsteps casually echo across the concrete. In his hand is a sharp and bloody knife. Mockingly, he asks, “Where did you think you’d go?”

The victim has been let go, but she isn’t free. Ahead, she finds herself cornered as Jungkook catches up to her. Terrified, she holds her hands out in front of her, as if that would stop him.

It’s like seeing your own fate on the screen.

The woman begs and screams before her blood splatters across the floor. You find yourself quoting her, staring up at his darkened eyes. “No, please. Don’t hurt me.”

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks, staring right at you. His mouth twitches, fighting a smile. “I thought you liked horror movies.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reviews are greatly appreciated!

#movie night os #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #yandere jungkook #bts horror #jungkook horror #halloween 2023 #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic

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lila-lou · 11 days ago

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✨Taking her in - Pt. 13✨

Summary: After Dean Winchester saves your life, he brings you into the safety of the bunker. As you grow older and stronger, Dean refuses to let you join the hunts, his overprotective behavior intensifying. But beneath his fierce protectiveness lies something darker—conflicted feelings he can’t face. As your 18th birthday approaches, Dean struggles to keep control, torn between his duty to protect you and emotions he’s buried for too long.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: 18+ only! Smut, HUGE Age Gap, Immoral, Language, ANGST, Fluff

Word Count: 9377

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💜

After breakfast, the tension between you, Dean, and Sam had simmered down enough for normal conversation to flow. Still, you could feel Sam’s eyes on you every now and then, though he kept his teasing to a minimum after seeing your quiet demeanor. Once the plates were cleared and the casual talk about the case wrapped up, Dean stood, stretching his arms.

“Hey, Sam”, Dean said, his voice more relaxed now, “we’re gonna head into town, grab some groceries and stuff. Anything you need?”.

Sam raised an eyebrow, but didn’t push the matter further. “Nah, I’m good. Just don’t forget the essentials this time, okay?”, he said with a smirk, knowing Dean had a habit of forgetting important things like bread or milk.

Dean gave him a half-smile, then turned to you. “You ready?”.

You nodded, grateful for the chance to get out of the bunker for a bit and escape the awkward tension that still hung in the air. Heading out for groceries might not seem like much, but both you and Dean knew the real reason for the trip.

A few minutes later, you found yourselves in the Impala, the familiar rumble of the engine providing a steady, comforting background noise as you headed toward town. The silence between you wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could feel Dean glancing at you every so often, as if trying to gauge how you were feeling after everything that had happened that morning.

“You alright?”, Dean finally asked, his voice low but filled with concern as he turned his attention to the road ahead. His fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, the tension from earlier still lingering in his posture.

“Yeah, I’m fine”, you replied softly, though you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. You appreciated Dean’s thoughtfulness, but there was no denying that the weight of what you were about to do hung heavy in the air.

Dean hesitated for a moment. His fingers flexed around the steering wheel, his gaze flicking toward you before settling back on the road. You could feel his uncertainty, the way he was turning something over in his mind but struggling to find the right words.

Finally, he spoke, his voice a little softer, as if he was worried about how you’d respond. “I… uh, I just want to make sure…”. He paused, swallowing hard. “Did you, um, did you enjoy yourself? Last night, I mean. Or earlier… I just—”. He stumbled over the words, clearly unsure of how to phrase what he wanted to say. His usual confident demeanor had cracked, replaced with the vulnerability he rarely let show. “I wasn’t too… rough, was I? I tried to be gentle, but—”.

You could see him struggling to express what he was feeling, his nerves getting the better of him. His eyes flicked toward you again, searching for reassurance, and you felt a pang of guilt at how worried he seemed. He clearly thought something had gone wrong, that maybe he’d hurt you or pushed too far.

You shook your head quickly, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. “No, Dean, it wasn’t that”, you said softly, your voice gentle as you tried to soothe the concern in his eyes. “You were perfect. Really”.

Dean’s shoulders relaxed just a bit, but there was still a shadow of doubt in his expression. “Then what is it?”, he asked, his voice tentative, like he was afraid to hear the answer.

You hesitated, unsure of how to put it into words. It wasn’t about how gentle or perfect he had been—it was about something deeper, something you hadn’t quite been able to shake since last night. “It’s just… I don’t know”, you started, struggling to find the right way to explain. “I guess I’m just worried that for you, this was just…fun… and that maybe you don’t want more than that”.

Dean blinked, clearly caught off guard by your words. For a moment, he was silent, processing what you’d said. You could see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to piece it together, and you held your breath, waiting for his response.

Finally, he let out a long sigh, his grip on the wheel loosening slightly. “Hey”, he said, his voice softer now, less guarded. “I’m not great at this… you know, talking about feelings and all that. But I need you to know, this wasn’t just… a one time thing for me”.

After a few moments of silence, he glanced at you again, his brow furrowed, and then he let out a quiet, almost incredulous laugh.

“You really think I’d… I mean, do you honestly believe I’d take your damn virginity just for fun?”. His voice was soft, but there was a hint of vulnerability in the way he said it, like the idea had caught him off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable, but not with you—with the thought that you’d think that of him.

His words hung in the air, and you could hear the weight of them, the raw sincerity. Dean wasn’t great at talking about emotions, but the fact that he was trying this hard to explain himself meant more than anything.

“I mean, yeah, I can be a bit of a… well, you know me”, he continued, his voice stumbling slightly as he tried to find the right words. “But with you? I would never”.

Dean’s voice trailed off, and he sighed heavily, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel again as if he were trying to grip onto something solid, something that could anchor him. He glanced at you briefly, catching the way you were biting your lip, your eyes fixed on him, clearly waiting for him to continue. The tension in the air thickened.

“I know you're… younger than me”, he mumbled, the words almost hesitant, like they were weighing on him heavily. “Hell, I shouldn’t have… done any of this. I’m supposed to be your protector, not… not someone who takes advantage of that”.

He sighed again, his frustration evident in the way his brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. “But I can’t stop myself anymore”, he admitted, his voice dropping to a low, almost defeated tone. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried to stay away from crossing that line, to keep it together, but every time I look at you…”.

He trailed off again, his vulnerability so clear now that it almost made your heart ache. This wasn’t the Dean who was always in control, who knew what to do or say in every situation. This was the Dean who was conflicted, caught between what he thought he should do and what he couldn’t seem to help anymore.

“I’m not proud of it”, he continued, his voice rough with emotion. “I know you deserve better—someone your age, someone who doesn’t come with all this… baggage. But I can’t—”. He stopped, shaking his head, clearly frustrated with himself.

Your heart squeezed at his words, and you could see the guilt and uncertainty swirling in his expression. He genuinely believed that being with you was wrong, that he had let you down by not being the protector he thought he was supposed to be. But you knew it wasn’t like that—not for you. You didn’t feel like Dean had taken advantage of you; if anything, it felt like he was the one who was holding back, always careful not to cross lines unless you invited him to.

You reached out, placing your hand gently on his arm. “Dean”, you whispered, your voice soft but firm. “You’re not taking advantage of me. I wanted this. I still want this”.

Dean’s eyes flicked to yours, searching your face for any sign of doubt. But when he found none, he exhaled softly, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “I just… I don’t want you to look back and regret this”, he said quietly. “I don’t want to hurt you”.

“You won’t”, you assured him, your thumb gently stroking his arm. “I know what I’m doing. I’m not some kid you have to protect from yourself”.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, the weight of his own internal struggle still visible in his expression. But slowly, you saw him begin to soften, his guard lowering just a little as he let your words sink in.

“I don’t know if I can ever stop worrying about that”, he admitted quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But… I care about you. More than I can say. And if you want this—if you’re sure—then… I won’t hold back anymore”.

Your heart swelled at his words, and you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Dean wasn’t perfect, and neither was this situation, but you knew now that he was in this just as deeply as you were. It wasn’t just a passing moment for him, and that knowledge made all the difference.

“I’m sure”, you said, your voice steady. “I want you, Dean”.

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes locked on yours as if he were still processing everything. But finally, he gave a small nod, his hand moving to cover yours on his arm.

A little while later, you and Dean walked into the small-town pharmacy, the soft bell above the door chiming as you stepped inside. Dean was silent as he guided you to the counter, his jaw tight but his hand resting protectively on the small of your back. He was trying to keep his composure, but you could feel the weight of the situation settling over him again.

When you reached the counter, the pharmacist, an older man with silver-rimmed glasses, looked up from behind the counter and gave a polite nod. Dean stepped forward, clearing his throat.

“I need, uh… the morning-after pill”, Dean said, his voice steady but low. His eyes didn’t meet the pharmacist’s, instead focusing on a random spot on the counter.

The pharmacist raised an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from Dean to you briefly before looking back at Dean. He gave a neutral nod, as if it wasn’t the first time he’d heard this request.

“Sure”, the man said in a casual tone, but then added, “I’ll need to see the ID of your daughter and some paperwork first, before I can give it to you”.

Dean froze, his body going rigid next to you. He blinked once, twice, his mouth opening slightly as he processed what the man had just said. You felt the tension spike between you, and even though the pharmacist hadn’t meant anything by it, the words felt like they had landed wrong.

Dean cleared his throat again, this time more sharply. “She’s not… she’s not my daughter”, he said, his voice a little strained, clearly trying to stay calm while correcting the mistake. His hand tightened slightly on your back, like he was holding back the urge to say more.

The pharmacist’s confusion lingered in the air, his eyes darting between you and Dean as if trying to make sense of the situation. Dean, still visibly tense, let out a quiet, frustrated sigh before muttering, “Just give me the damn pill, okay?”.

His voice was low, carrying a subtle edge of impatience, though he was trying to keep it under control. You could feel the tension radiating off him, but before the moment could become any more uncomfortable, you stepped forward, pulling out your ID.

You handed the ID to the pharmacist, your fingers brushing against his as he took it from you. His expression softened slightly as he glanced at the ID, though the awkwardness between the three of you still hung thick in the air. The soft sounds of the store—the hum of the fluorescent lights, the distant murmur of another customer—did little to ease the tension.

“Thank you”, the pharmacist said, his tone now more formal, as if trying to make the interaction as quick and painless as possible. He punched a few keys into the register, then handed the ID back to you. “You’ll just need to fill out some paperwork”, he added, sliding a small clipboard across the counter.

You took it from him, trying to ignore the flush rising in your cheeks as you bent over the counter to fill out the necessary information. The pen felt heavy in your hand, your heart pounding with every stroke as you scrawled your name and details on the form.

Meanwhile, Dean stood beside you, silent but simmering with quiet frustration. You could feel his presence—strong, protective, but also tense. His hand remained on the small of your back, his thumb gently rubbing against your skin as if to remind you that he was still there, even through the awkwardness.

The pharmacist stood behind the counter, clearly aware of the tension but trying to stay professional. He glanced over at Dean occasionally but kept his focus mostly on you as you finished filling out the paperwork. You could feel the weight of both their gazes, and it made the task of writing your information feel excruciatingly slow.

Once you were done, you handed the clipboard back to the pharmacist, who gave it a quick once-over before nodding. “Alright, I’ll go get the pill for you”.

As he turned to retrieve the package, Dean finally let out a long, shaky breath, running a hand over his face. “This is… really something”, he muttered under his breath, clearly still irritated by how everything had played out. You gave him a small, reassuring smile, though you felt just as rattled.

The pharmacist returned with the pill a moment later, placing the package on the counter and pushing it toward you. “If you have any questions, there are instructions inside”, he said, his voice more neutral now, the transaction nearly over.

“Thanks”, you said softly, taking the package and sliding it into your bag, eager to leave the pharmacy behind. You offered the pharmacist a polite smile, though the tension still hung heavy between all of you.

Dean, ever the one to wrap things up quickly, nodded once to the pharmacist before gently guiding you out of the store with a hand on your lower back. As you stepped outside, the fresh air hit you like a wave of relief, and you finally allowed yourself to exhale.

You climbed into the Impala with Dean following close behind, the tension from the pharmacy encounter still lingering in the air. The moment you were seated, you pulled the pill package out of your bag, your fingers running over the small box as you opened it up. The instructions, printed in neat, clinical text, felt heavy in your hands, but you needed to focus.

Dean started the engine, but he didn’t pull out of the parking lot right away. You could feel him glancing at you from the driver’s seat, though he stayed quiet for a moment as you carefully unfolded the instructions.

You began reading the instructions quietly, trying to absorb all the necessary details. After a few moments, Dean finally broke the silence. “So… what do you have to do?”, he asked, his voice low but genuine. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel, betraying his unease.

It struck you then—Dean had never had to deal with something like this before. For all his experience in life, in facing down impossible situations, this was new territory for him. He had no idea what the protocol was, and you could tell it made him uncomfortable not knowing how to help. But here he was, trying his best.

You cleared your throat, giving him a small smile to reassure him. “It’s pretty straightforward”, you said, your voice softer now, less tense. “I just take it as soon as possible, with some water and food. It’s most effective if taken within 72 hours, and then that’s it”.

Dean nodded slowly, absorbing what you’d just told him, but he still seemed tense. His fingers tapped lightly on the steering wheel, and he glanced over at you again, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Anything to watch out for?”, he asked, his voice low, careful. It was clear he didn’t really know what to expect, but he was trying to make sure he was prepared to help however he could.

You looked back down at the instructions, scanning them for anything important. “Uh, yeah”, you said, reading the list carefully. “It says there could be some side effects. Nausea, fatigue, headaches—stuff like that. Nothing too serious, though”.

Dean frowned slightly, his concern deepening. “So, like… if you feel bad or anything, you’ll let me know, right?”. His voice was earnest, almost vulnerable, like he was worried about missing something important.

You smiled softly at Dean, your heart warmed by his concern. "Of course", you reassured him, feeling a sense of relief knowing he was so attentive. His protectiveness was comforting, even in such an awkward situation.

A few minutes later, after Dean stopped by a gas station and grabbed a bottle of water for you, you took the pill, swallowing it down with a deep breath. You felt a sense of finality in the act—like the tension that had been hanging over you since the morning was beginning to dissipate. Dean lingered near you, his eyes filled with quiet concern, but when you gave him a reassuring nod, he returned to the driver’s seat.

As he started the Impala and began the familiar drive back to the bunker, the low rumble of the engine seemed to fill the space between you, leaving you to your thoughts. You stared out of the window, the landscape passing in a blur, but your mind wasn’t on the scenery.

Instead, your thoughts drifted back to the events of the past night, the closeness you and Dean had shared. It hadn’t just been the physicality of it all—the warmth of his hands on your skin, the way his lips had explored yours so tenderly, or the way his body had moved with yours in perfect rhythm. No, it was the emotional connection that had come with it, the way he had looked at you, vulnerable and sincere, the unspoken affection between you.

Your mind wandered through those moments, recalling the gentle way he had held you, his fingers brushing over your skin as if you were something precious. The memory of his lips on your neck, the soft murmur of your name in that gruff, hushed tone—it all came flooding back, making your heart beat a little faster.

And then there had been the sweet urgency in the way he had moved inside you, his body aligning with yours, every touch and thrust filled with a depth that had left you breathless. The way he had whispered your name, his voice laced with affection and desire, had sent shivers through you then, and even now, the memory was enough to stir something deep inside you.

You shifted slightly in your seat, feeling the warmth in your cheeks as you relived those intimate moments. Dean must have noticed your quiet contemplation because he glanced over at you now and then, his expression soft but still attentive, checking to make sure you were alright.

“You doing okay?”, he asked gently, breaking through your thoughts.

You blinked, pulled back to the present, and turned to him with a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good”, you replied, your voice soft, though your mind was still lingering on those sweet memories.

Dean gave you a reassuring nod but didn’t push the conversation further, sensing that you might need some space. Still, he kept checking on you from time to time as he drove, his concern evident in every glance. Even in his silence, his presence felt steady and strong, like he was grounding you as you processed everything.

As you neared the last supermarket before reaching the bunker, Dean pulled the Impala into the parking lot. The engine rumbled softly before going quiet, and the two of you sat there for a moment, the hum of the car fading into the background.

Dean looked over at you, his expression a little softer now, as if he was finally relaxing after everything. “Let’s grab what we need and get back to the bunker”, he said, giving you a small smile. He was trying to keep things light, but you could still see the hint of concern in his eyes.

You nodded and stepped out of the car, the cool air hitting your skin as you walked toward the entrance of the store. Inside, the fluorescent lights and the faint scent of fresh produce made everything feel a little more normal, grounding you after the whirlwind of the past few hours. Dean grabbed a cart, and the two of you began moving through the aisles, picking up the essentials—milk, bread, eggs, and some snacks.

It felt strangely domestic, the two of you walking side by side, picking out items and occasionally brushing against each other as you navigated the small aisles. Dean kept things casual, pointing out a few items with a teasing comment or a quick joke, trying to ease the mood, and you appreciated the way he was so aware of your feelings.

As you pulled into the garage beneath the bunker, Dean parked the Impala and cut the engine. He glanced at you, his hand resting on the steering wheel for a moment before he spoke. “You sure you’re okay?”.

You smiled softly, appreciating how much he was checking in with you. “Yeah, I’m okay, Dean. Thanks for… you know, everything”.

Dean chuckled softly, shaking his head as he muttered, “Stop thanking me”, though his smile remained warm, eyes soft with sincerity. “You don’t need to thank me for something like this".

You returned his smile, appreciating the way he could always bring a bit of lightness to even the most intense situations. With the groceries packed in hand, the two of you stepped out of the Impala and made your way toward the bunker’s entrance. The steel doors creaked open as you walked inside, the cool air of the bunker wrapping around you, offering a sense of safety and familiarity.

As you carried the bags through the hallway, you could hear voices drifting from the kitchen—Sam’s low, steady tone, Cas’s slightly deeper voice, and Jack’s youthful curiosity blending together. As you rounded the corner into the kitchen, you saw them standing by the table, engaged in what looked like a serious discussion.

Sam noticed you and Dean first, glancing up from the pile of notes and maps spread across the table. “Hey”, he greeted with a nod. “Got everything?”.

Dean tossed a grocery bag onto the counter and shrugged. “Yeah, just the usual—milk, bread, snacks… Oh, and beer”, he added with a smirk.

Jack’s face brightened when he saw you both enter. “Hi! We were just talking about this case”, he said, pointing to the map spread out in front of him. “Sam thinks it’s angels, but Cas says it might be demons—or both”.

Cas, who was standing quietly next to Sam with his usual stoic expression, nodded in confirmation. “It’s in Texas”, he said, his deep voice carrying the weight of his experience. “The signs point to some kind of angelic and demonic activity converging”.

Dean raised an eyebrow as he unpacked the groceries, grabbing the beers from the bag. “Angels and demons, huh? Sounds like our kind of party”.

Sam chuckled, though his expression remained serious as he looked back at the map. “Yeah, except this one’s messy. People are getting caught in the crossfire, and we’re not sure who’s pulling the strings”.

You placed the rest of the groceries on the counter, listening as the conversation unfolded. There was something comforting about slipping back into the usual flow of things—the constant hunt, the camaraderie of everyone working together. It made the earlier tension of the day feel a little further away.

Dean cracked open a beer, taking a long swig before turning back to the group. “Alright, so what’s the plan? You guys think we should head out soon?”.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, we were thinking of leaving tonight. We’re still waiting on a bit more intel, but it looks like it’s heating up fast”.

Jack glanced over at you, his face full of curiosity. “Are you coming with us?”.

You glanced over at Dean, catching his eye for just a second, before he immediately raised a hand, shaking his head. “Don’t even think about it”, he muttered, his tone firm, though there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—concern.

You raised both eyebrows at him, your lips parting slightly in surprise at his quick response. Dean joining the hunt wasn’t a question, but the fact that he was so clearly trying to stop you from joining was enough to make your heart race, irritation rising in your chest.

“Seriously?”, you asked, your tone low but incredulous. You crossed your arms, waiting for his explanation. You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you hissed, “You still don’t want to let me go?”.

Dean turned fully toward you, his expression hard but conflicted. His jaw tightened as he struggled to find the right words. After a moment of silence, he muttered, “Nothing’s changed about that”.

His voice was low, almost defeated, as if he already knew this conversation wasn’t going to end the way he wanted. You could see the worry etched into his features, but his stubbornness was starting to irritate you. It wasn’t the first time Dean had tried to hold you back from a hunt, but this felt different—more personal.

"Dean", you began, your tone sharp with frustration, but before you could finish, he cut you off, his voice firmer now.

"I said no", Dean snapped, the finality in his tone catching you off guard. His eyes were intense, that protective edge coming out in full force, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond.

His quick interruption, the way he wasn’t even willing to listen, sent a wave of anger through you. It wasn’t just his protectiveness anymore—it was the dismissal of your voice, your capability. You weren’t a kid or someone he needed to shield from the world, but in that moment, that’s exactly how he was treating you. Even after what happened last night.. or this morning.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, your anger bubbling up, making you clench your fists as you moved. You heard Dean call after you, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t, not right now. If you did, you’d either say something you’d regret or let him see just how much this hurt, and you weren’t ready to do either.

As you stormed out of the room, the tension left behind was palpable. Sam looked at Dean, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and let out a long sigh. He leaned back against the table, crossing his arms, clearly weighing his next words carefully before speaking.

“Dean”, Sam said quietly, his voice steady but urging, “you’ve gotta let her come with us. You know she can handle herself”.

Dean’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking toward the door you had just walked through. He was clearly torn between his instinct to protect and the reality that you were more than capable. His hand ran through his hair, frustration boiling over.

“I know that, Sam”, Dean muttered, his voice low and edged with irritation. “But this hunt—it’s angels and demons. You know how bad it could get”.

Sam nodded, his face softening as he tried to reason with his brother. “Yeah, it could get bad. But it always gets bad, Dean. Every hunt we go on has risks, and she’s proven herself. Keeping her away won’t change that. All it’s gonna do is push her further from you”.

Dean exhaled sharply, pacing for a moment as he processed Sam’s words. His green eyes were filled with conflict, that protective instinct still gnawing at him. But deep down, Dean knew Sam was right. But this wasn’t about your ability to fight; it was about Dean’s fear of losing you.

Cas, who had been silent up until now, spoke up in his calm, deep voice. “She deserves the chance to make her own choices, Dean. Just like we all do”.

Dean groaned in frustration, rubbing the back of his neck as he processed Sam and Cas's words. He hated this feeling—the constant tug of war between wanting to protect you and knowing he had no right to keep you from the dangers of their world. You were 18 now, an adult by all measures. But more than that, the realization that he'd already crossed certain lines with you weighed heavily on him.

He leaned against the table, shaking his head as the conflict continued to brew inside him. How could he justify keeping you from the hunt when he hadn’t treated you like a child last night—or this morning? He had let his emotions, his feelings for you, get the best of him. And now, here he was, trying to act like the protector, like he had any claim to decide what was best for you.

Dean felt a fresh wave of guilt wash over him. He knew you’d be more than just mad if he kept treating you like a kid after everything that had happened between the two of you. You had grown up, and you had shown him just how capable and strong you were. But letting go of that protective instinct was harder than he’d imagined.

"She’ll never forgive me if I keep this up", he muttered under his breath, though Sam and Cas heard him clearly.

Sam raised an eyebrow, leaning forward slightly. "You’re right", he said, his tone gentle but firm. "She’s not going to appreciate being coddled, Dean. Especially after… everything".

Dean shot his brother a sharp look, irritation flickering across his face. "Yeah, no need to remind me of that", he snapped, though the frustration in his voice was directed more at himself than Sam. He knew he'd crossed a line with you, a line he couldn't uncross now.

Dean let out another long sigh, running his hand over his face again. You weren’t a child, and it wasn’t fair for him to treat you like one—especially not after the intimacy you’d shared. He hated how tangled everything had become, but there was no going back now. And as much as it terrified him, he knew he couldn’t keep you from the hunt.

"Fine". Dean muttered. He pushed himself off the table and squared his shoulders. "But I’m keeping an eye on her, Sam. If anything feels off, I’m pulling her out".

Sam nodded, understanding the unspoken fear behind Dean’s words. "She’ll be fine", he reassured his brother once more.

Dean straightened, trying to shake off the unease in his chest. He’d never forgive himself if something happened to you, but he also knew that if he kept pushing you away, he'd lose you in a different way. And that thought scared him just as much.

With a final sigh, Dean walked toward the hallway, steeling himself for the conversation with you. You were strong—he knew that. Now, he just had to let go and trust it.

You sat on the edge of your bed, arms crossed and jaw clenched. The frustration that had bubbled inside you since leaving the kitchen hadn’t gone away—it had only grown stronger. You were more than capable, and yet Dean still insisted on treating you like a child when it came to hunts. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was insulting.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, but you didn’t respond immediately. You already knew who it was. Dean. The silence on the other side of the door lingered for a moment before you heard his voice, low and unsure.

“Hey, it’s me”, Dean muttered, his tone softer than before. “Can I come in?”.

You stayed quiet for a moment, the anger still simmering beneath the surface. But after a few seconds, you let out a sigh and stood up, crossing the room to open the door. You weren’t ready to let go of your frustration, but you knew you had to hear him out.

Dean stood there, his usual confidence visibly shaken. He wasn’t used to having these kinds of conversations—the emotional ones, the ones where he had to let go of his protective instincts. His green eyes were filled with conflict, and he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before stepping into the room as you moved aside to let him in.

He shut the door behind him and took a breath before facing you. “Look”, he started, his voice still carrying the weight of his internal struggle. “I know you’re pissed. And you have every right to be”.

You crossed your arms again. “You’re damn right I am”, you shot back, the frustration in your voice clear. “You keep treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing. Like I’m some fragile thing you need to protect”.

Dean winced slightly at your words, his guilt clear as he stepped toward you. “I know. And I hate that I keep doing it”, he admitted, his voice low. “But I can’t help it, okay? I care about you. More than you realize”.

You met his gaze, the weight of his words hanging in the air. Part of you softened, hearing the raw emotion in his voice, but the anger still lingered. “Dean, I’m not a kid. I can handle myself. You don’t get to pick and choose when you treat me like an adult”.

He took a step closer, his eyes searching yours. “I know you’re not a kid. Trust me, I know”, he muttered, his voice thick with meaning. The memory of last night and this morning hung between you, unspoken but undeniable. “That’s not what this is about. It’s just—”. He stopped, struggling to find the words. “You mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to lose you. Especially not out there”.

You sighed, your frustration fading slightly as you saw the vulnerability in his eyes. “You’re not going to lose me, Dean. I’m part of this life now, just like you”.

Dean let out a heavy sigh, his shoulders sagging as he ran a hand through his hair. He looked at you with a mixture of frustration and something much deeper—something closer to vulnerability. You knew Dean wasn’t used to feeling this way, and it was hard for him to express it, especially when it came to you.

“I know you’re part of this life”, Dean said quietly, his voice raw. “I know you can handle yourself. But this hunt… it’s different. It’s not just a salt-and-burn, it’s angels and demons. It’s messy, and unpredictable, and…”. He trailed off, his jaw tightening as he tried to find the right words.

“This would be your first real hunt”, he continued, his eyes locking onto yours, “and it’s a heavy one. I’m just… I’m scared something’s gonna happen to you, okay? And I can’t—”. He stopped himself, taking a deep breath. “I can’t let that happen”.

His admission hung between you, and for a moment, you saw the fear. Dean wasn’t just being overprotective because he didn’t trust you. He was scared—scared of losing you, scared of what might happen if something went wrong. And suddenly, the frustration you had felt started to dissolve, replaced by a deeper understanding of why he was acting this way.

You stepped closer to him, uncrossing your arms and softening your tone. “Dean”, you said, your voice gentle now, “I get it. But I need you to trust that I can do this. You taught me how to fight, how to survive. I’m ready for this”.

Dean’s eyes flickered with emotion as he stared at you. “It’s not about you not being ready”, he muttered, his voice thick. “I know you’re ready. Hell, you’re probably more prepared than I was on my first hunt”. He gave a half-hearted chuckle, but the worry in his eyes didn’t fade. “But if something happened to you out there, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself”.

You placed a hand on his arm, squeezing gently, trying to ease some of the tension he was carrying. “Dean, something could happen to any of us on any hunt. You know that. But we watch each other’s backs, right? And we get through it together”.

Dean sighed deeply, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he finally nodded. “Alright”, he mumbled, his voice carrying a reluctant acceptance. “Get ready. We’ll head out soon”.

You couldn’t help but break into a wide grin at his concession, the frustration melting away as relief took its place. Without thinking, you threw your arms around him in a tight hug, nearly squeezing the air out of him. Dean rolled his eyes, but there was a soft, genuine grin on his face as he returned the embrace.

Then, without a moment’s warning, you pressed your lips against his. The kiss was brief but intense, a spark of something more than just comfort or gratitude. Both of you were taken aback, the surprise of the moment making your hearts race.

You pulled away quickly, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry”, you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper as you tried to regain your composure.

Dean’s reaction was immediate. With a playful grin, he grabbed your ass and lifted you effortlessly, his strong arms lifting you onto his hips. He maneuvered you both towards the bed with a confident but gentle push, and before you could protest, you found yourself lying back on the bed with him leaning over you.

His green eyes met yours, filled with a mixture of affection and mischief. “Sorry, huh?”, he said, his voice low and teasing. “You can’t just go around kissing me and expect me to let it slide”.

You laughed softly, your embarrassment fading into a comfortable ease as you looked up at him. “I didn’t think it would surprise you that much”, you said, trying to sound nonchalant but failing as your heart fluttered.

Dean’s grin widened, and he leaned down, his lips brushing against yours again in a slow, tender kiss. This time, there was no rush, just a shared moment of connection and unspoken feelings.

As Dean’s lips lingered on yours, the kiss deepened, igniting a spark of heat between you. You could feel his warmth pressing down on you, his body aligning with yours in a way that made your heart race. His hands slid down your sides, gripping your hips gently but firmly, drawing you closer.

You let out a soft breath against his mouth, the sensation of his lips moving with yours creating a tantalizing friction. Dean’s kiss was slow and deliberate, a contrast to the urgency of moments before. He shifted his weight slightly, pressing his hips against yours, eliciting a deep, appreciative growl from him as the contact heightened.

The sound sent a shiver down your spine, making your pulse quicken. You responded instinctively, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The heat between you built with each shared breath and touch, a silent testament to the closeness you both felt.

Your breath grew ragged as you looked up at Dean, your eyes filled with a mix of longing and vulnerability.

Dean let out a soft groan, his head falling against the crook of your neck as his breath mingled with yours. His hand, warm and searching, moved between your bodies, slipping under the waistband of your shorts and panties. His fingers found you already damp.

You shivered at his touch, your body responding instinctively as his fingers explored you with a slow, deliberate movement. A gasp escaped your lips as he began to tease and caress, sending waves of pleasure through you. The intensity of the moment was overwhelming, but it was also intensely intimate, a shared connection that went beyond words.

Dean’s groan was muffled against your neck as he continued his gentle, explorative touch, his fingers working to heighten the sensations he was evoking in you. The heat between you both was palpable, a tangible thing that seemed to fill the room.

You let out a breathy moan, arching into his touch as your hands tightened on his shoulders, pulling him closer.

Dean had barely pulled himself off you, the heat of the moment lingering between you both as he mumbled, “Give me two”, his lips brushing yours before he reluctantly stood up. You watched him head out of your room, your heart still racing as he walked toward his own.

As you lay there, catching your breath and trying to steady your pounding heart, Dean quickly grabbed what he needed from his drawer.

Just as Dean stepped back into the hallway, he came face to face with Jack, who had just emerged from the bathroom. Jack smiled innocently, his expression curious as he looked at Dean. “Hey, Dean”, Jack said, his tone casual. “How’s she doing? She seemed so upset earlier”.

Dean froze for a second, the condom in his hand out of view but still clutched tightly. His mind scrambled for a quick response, trying to keep his cool. He cleared his throat, offering a nonchalant smile. “Uh, she’s good, Jack. We… talked things out”, he said, trying to brush off any suspicion while silently praying Jack didn’t ask too many questions.

Jack, being the ever-curious and kind-hearted soul that he was, didn’t pick up on Dean’s impatience. Instead, he lingered, tilting his head slightly as he continued, “That’s good! I’m really glad you guys worked it out. You know, I’ve been learning a lot about conflict resolution, and sometimes all it takes is a conversation. It’s fascinating how people can—”.

Dean shifted on his feet, trying to keep the easy-going look on his face while internally urging Jack to wrap it up. "Yeah, Jack, you’re right. Talking’s good", he muttered, nodding along but his mind clearly elsewhere. The condom hidden in his fist felt heavier by the second, and the lingering heat from earlier was still thrumming through his veins.

Jack, still oblivious, kept talking. “—and it’s great because when you understand how the other person feels, you can get closer. You know, like really connect on a deeper level. I think that’s what makes strong relationships”.

Dean couldn’t help but let out a quiet groan, masked as a cough. He needed to get back to you, back to the room, but Jack was on a roll. "Yeah, uh-huh, deep connection. Got it, buddy. Listen, I gotta—".

“Have you noticed that?”, Jack interrupted, still smiling, clearly excited about his newfound understanding of human relationships. “Like, after talking, do you feel closer to her?”.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face, trying not to laugh out of sheer frustration. "Yeah, Jack", he said, his tone tight but not unkind. "Talking helped a lot. But, uh, I’ve got something I really need to get back to, so maybe we can chat about this later?".

Jack’s eyes lit up in understanding, finally catching the hint. “Oh! Yeah, sure. Sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to keep you. I’m just happy you’re both okay!”.

Dean flashed a quick, tight smile. "Thanks, Jack. We’ll catch up later".

As Jack walked away, Dean let out a long breath of relief, his impatience finally abating. He turned quickly and headed back to your room, slipping inside with a smirk on his face. "Ran into Jack", he muttered, shaking his head as he approached the bed again.

You smiled up at him, amused. "I figured something like that happened", you teased, the tension between you two quickly returning as he climbed back into bed, his eyes darkening with desire once more.

"Now, where were we?", Dean asked, his voice low, the heat from earlier already back in full force as he leaned down, his lips finding yours again, resuming the connection you both craved.

Dean’s kisses were relentless as he hovered above you, his hands skillfully working to remove your shorts and panties. You eagerly assisted, the rush of anticipation heightening the experience. As the fabric was tossed aside, Dean’s hands moved to his own belt and zipper. He managed to unfasten his belt with one hand while continuing to kiss you deeply, his other hand exploring your body with increasing urgency.

The moment his jeans were pushed down just enough, he pulled away briefly to get the condom from his pocket.

As Dean prepared to put on the condom, you watched him, your breath coming in quick bursts. An idea sparked in your mind, and you hesitated for a moment, gathering the courage to voice it.

“Dean”, you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper but filled with curiosity and desire. “Can I… try?”.

Dean looked at you, a mix of surprise and curiosity in his eyes. His movements slowed as he took in your request, his expression shifting to one of gentle encouragement. “Try what?”, he asked, his voice low and soothing.

You met his gaze, your cheeks flushed with a mix of shyness and excitement. “Can I help with putting it on?”, you asked, your tone tinged with a blend of boldness and vulnerability.

The surprise in his gaze melted into something warmer and more appreciative, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Sure”, he murmured. He handed you the condom, his fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm.

You took the condom from him, feeling a flutter of nervous anticipation. Dean shifted slightly, giving you a better view and access.

Carefully, you unrolled the condom with both hands. Your fingers brushed against the base of Dean’s member, and you were surprised by how hard and warm he felt against your skin. The heat was intense, a stark contrast to the cool, smooth surface of the condom. The sensation of him being so close, of holding him, was both exhilarating and intimate.

As you worked the condom down, you could feel the firm, throbbing heat of him. It was a new and thrilling experience to feel him so intimately, the texture and warmth sending shivers through you. Your movements were slow and deliberate, ensuring you were doing it right. Dean’s breath hitched slightly at your touch, and he let out a low, appreciative sound that made you even more aware of the closeness between you.

Once the condom was in place, you looked up at Dean, meeting his gaze with a shy but confident smile. “There”, you said softly, trying to steady your voice despite the flutter of excitement in your chest.

Dean’s eyes softened further as he reached out to gently touch your face, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “You did great”, he murmured, his voice filled with warmth. He leaned in and kissed you deeply, the kiss tender and full of unspoken feelings.

You responded to his kiss with equal passion, your hands resting on his shoulders as you drew him closer. The closeness, the heat, and the intensity of the moment made everything feel electric. Dean’s movements were slow and deliberate as he adjusted himself, aligning with you.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes never leaving yours. “Ready?”, he asked softly, his breath mingling with yours.

You nodded, your heart racing with a blend of anticipation and tenderness.

Dean’s gaze remained fixed on you, a mixture of tenderness and desire evident in his eyes. His movements were gentle, ensuring that the moment remained intimate and full of care.

As he entered you, the sensation was both intense and overwhelming. The heat and pressure were a stark contrast to the anticipation you had felt moments earlier. Dean’s expression was one of concentration and deep affection, his forehead resting against yours, breath mingling in a rhythm that matched the slow, deliberate pace of his movements.

He paused for a moment, allowing you to adjust and making sure you were comfortable. His hands were firmly but gently placed on your hips, offering a reassuring touch as he gradually moved deeper.

As Dean continued to move, you focused on the sensation of him filling you, the initial intensity giving way to a more profound connection. Your breathing grew heavier, each inhale and exhale reflecting the rhythm of his movements.

Dean’s careful pace allowed you to adjust fully, and you could feel the gradual depth of his presence inside you. The heat and pressure were exhilarating, each motion adding to the building pleasure. His hands on your hips guided you gently, ensuring you were both comfortable and in sync.

You watched as he gradually disappeared inside you, each shift and thrust accentuating the closeness between you. The sensation was overwhelming in its intensity, a mix of pleasure and connection that deepened with every moment.

Dean’s breathing grew more uneven as he continued his slow, deliberate movements. He murmured softly, his voice tinged with a mix of pleasure and admiration. “You’re still so damn tight".

You could feel his words vibrate against your skin, adding to the overall sensation. His movements were careful, each thrust measured to keep the pleasure rising without overwhelming you. The intensity of the moment was palpable, and Dean’s expression was a mixture of focus and deep satisfaction.

As he continued, his hands on your hips tightened slightly, guiding you to move with him. His kisses became more urgent, his lips trailing along your neck and shoulders as he sought to savor every part of the experience.

Dean’s control began to falter as the overwhelming sensation of your tightness and warmth became too intense. His movements grew more urgent, each thrust driving him closer to the edge. He tried to maintain his rhythm, but the sheer pleasure of being inside you made it difficult to hold back.

As his breathing became more erratic, Dean’s grip on your hips tightened, his body pressing closer to yours. His groans of pleasure mixed with your soft, breathy moans, creating a rhythm that was both frantic and intimate.

Just as he was about to reach his climax, Dean’s pace quickened, his breaths coming in sharp gasps. The intensity of the moment made him lose himself completely, but he focused on bringing you to the same peak. His hand slipped between your bodies, finding the most sensitive spot and applying just the right pressure.

The combination of his touch and the relentless rhythm pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed and shook with the intensity of your climax, the wave of pleasure crashing over you. Dean’s name escaped your lips in a breathless cry, and as you reached your peak, it triggered his own release.

Dean’s final thrusts were driven by the shared pleasure, and he followed you into his own climax with a deep groan, his body trembling with the force of it.

As the waves of your climax began to subside, you lay there breathlessly, a satisfied smile playing on your lips. You looked up at Dean, who was still hovering above you, his own breathing heavy but filled with a contented satisfaction.

With a soft, teasing smile, you mumbled, “I could get used to this”.

Dean let out a low chuckle, his eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and affection. “Oh, you think so?”, he said, his voice light but filled with playful teasing. “You haven’t even seen half of what I can do with you”.

You looked at him, a mixture of surprise and curiosity in your eyes. “That so?”.

Dean’s grin widened as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “Definitely. But don’t worry, we’ve got plenty of time to explore”. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, his hand still resting on your hip.

Dean leaned down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips, his breath still warm against your skin. The tenderness in that kiss spoke volumes, a gentle contrast to the intensity of the moments just before. After a brief pause, he slowly pulled out of you, both of you breathing deeply as the connection lingered between you for a few seconds longer.

With a quiet sigh, Dean got up from the bed, his movements careful as he removed the condom and discreetly tossed it into the nearby trash. You watched him tug his jeans back up, the sound of his zipper breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room. As he adjusted himself, you couldn’t help but feel a wave of contentment wash over you.

Once Dean had tidied himself up, he turned back toward you, a small, satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

Dean grinned down at you, his usual playful smirk back in place. He reached down to give your leg a light squeeze, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled between you. "Alright, you better get dressed and ready", he said, his tone teasing but gentle. "We’ve still got a hunt to prep for".

You smiled, still basking in the afterglow but knowing he was right. There was work to be done. "Yeah, yeah, I’m on it", you murmured, stretching lazily before sitting up on the bed.

Dean stood and lingered for a second longer, his eyes trailing over you one more time before he gave you a soft, knowing look. "I’ll go pack my stuff", he said, his voice quiet, as if not wanting to break the moment completely. "Meet you in the garage in a bit?".

You nodded, and Dean’s eyes softened as he gave you one last, quick kiss on the forehead before heading toward the door. As he opened it, he paused, glancing back at you with that familiar twinkle in his eyes. "Don’t take too long, or I’ll have to come back and drag you out".

You laughed softly as he left the room, feeling a sense of warmth and connection still buzzing in the air. Dean’s usual confidence was back, but beneath that, there was something more—something unspoken but understood between the two of you.

Once he was gone, you stood and began gathering your clothes. But even as you prepared, the memory of the closeness you had just shared with Dean lingered in the back of your mind, filling you with a sense of anticipation for whatever came next—both on the hunt and beyond.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @ladykitana90 @fullbelieverheart @chainsawsangel @zaratahir @rebecca-hvnstn @maackiimoo @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @lachelledavies-winchester @kamisobsessed @kr804573 @c1gs-coffee @fyegyall @lilbloggs @emily-winchester @star-yawnznn @noell666 @averagedenjienjoyer0290 @impala67rollingthroughtown

#jensen ackles #dean winchester #deanwinchester #dean winchester x y/n #deanwinchtser #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #taking her in

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cottonlemonade · 2 months ago

Text

How You Met

word count: 1098 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hinata x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with comfort, happy ending

warnings: spoilers

It was still hot outside even though it was nearing midnight and Hinata’s eyes began to sting. The temperatures rarely dropped below anything considered perfect summer weather in Japan. Last year when he realized it wouldn’t snow during wintertime he found it new and exciting. This year, the prospect only filled him with dread.

For the most part, he really enjoyed Brazil. He had found a new love in beach volleyball, got along pretty well with the people around him and… and that was about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel lonely when he had time to think about something other than training on his delivery runs - or when he was alone in his apartment and happened to glance too long at his lock screen showing his friends grinning widely into the camera.

But tonight felt different. The last delivery he had just dropped off was for a married couple, the husband being Japanese. As he opened the door to receive his food, his eyes lit up and after noticing Hinata’s accented Portuguese when he asked for the money, he had switched over to his native language with a hopeful glint in his eyes. And that was all it took. That short exchange had cracked the dam inside of Hinata that had been filling up since his arrival a little over 18 months ago. He reached a park, scarcely bigger than the gym back home, that, from the looks of it, seemed to be mostly deserted. Through the sparse amount of trees with their lusciously green canopy, he spotted the hustle and bustle of a restaurant. Warm, inviting lights, laughter, music - people having a good time. And as usual, he was on the outside looking in. He slowed and eventually got off his delivery bike. Maybe he shouldn’t be riding it when his vision started to blur. A few drops fell onto the pebbly pathway from an earlier short November shower.

Not bothering to wipe away the water from the bench he plopped down and took a deep breath. He had trouble doing so in the swampy humid air. He leaned forward, staring at the ground. Another wave of laughter carried over from the restaurant. He slung his arms around his chest, his head was almost between his knees now and he coughed a little when he felt a lump in his throat. He began to mutter to himself in Japanese. “Why am I here? What was I thinking? I miss everyone so much. I wanna go home! I -“

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata quickly turned his head away, closing his eyes to keep calm.

The voice seemed to belong to a young woman. You stood a couple of meters away, a plastic bag from a convenience store in one, a popsicle in the other hand.

Just wishing you would leave him alone, he nodded but couldn’t stop a small sniffle.

“Yeah, you see, I don’t believe that.”, you said in a kindly teasing sort of way. He only realized now that you spoke Japanese.

You added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”, he said to his shoes, worried you might think less of him when you saw the big heavy tears now rolling down his face and onto the clenched fists on his knees.

Your shadow, formed by a streetlamp behind you, nodded thoughtfully, then held the popsicle between your lips while rummaging in your bag for something.

Pebbles crunching under your shoes, you came closer and a moment later placed a pack of tissues and a small bottle of strawberry milk next to him, taking a couple of steps back again.

He looked up.

“Of course, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will seem a little better tomorrow.”

Your smile was genuine and sweet. A slight accent told him you weren't a native speaker but the only thing he could really make out in the faint light was your curvy silhouette.

When he didn’t say anything you went on, “It’ll be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

After a short unsure pause you walked away. He watched you go. His eyes fell onto the gifts next to him and he let out a small thankful whimper, using his shoulder to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall again. Hinata cleared his throat and, gingerly at first, grabbed the milk and tissues to put in his pocket for later.

The following morning he woke up tangled in his bedsheets and quieted the blaring alarm on his phone. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and as he stared at the ceiling of his small apartment the previous night came back to him. A short twinge of embarrassment rose in his chest. It wasn’t that he had never cried in public but just because he had done so before didn’t mean he was immune to the feeling of shame that followed.

He rolled over and spotted the now-empty bottle of strawberry milk sitting on the low table in his cramped room. What would be the chances of seeing you again? At the very least he wanted to thank you for your kindness. But he was also so desperate for a friend, especially one he could speak Japanese with. And so, deciding he would drive by the little park again tonight, he crawled out of bed and got started on his day.

Six days later and still no luck. It was pretty absurd to hope to find one person again in a city as huge as Rio de Janeiro, especially after only seeing them through a veil of tears in the weakened light of a park lantern, but if Hinata was good at anything it was never giving up.

The first week passed. Then the second.

At this point, he had to squeeze the pack of tissues in his pocket to make sure he didn’t just imagine the whole exchange.

Then two nights later, as he hurried up the steps to an apartment building he felt his determination slipping a little. What if he had already passed you on the street and didn’t recognize you? You might stay that kind stranger forever. He rang the bell of this latest delivery and absently drummed his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the door to open.

“Boa n- oh! Hey you!”

Hinata’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice. Oh, he definitely didn’t expect you to be this pretty. A smile, wider than any he had felt in months, spread across his face. Finally. He found you.

a/n: is it very obvious yet that I love the trope of meeting your s/o when one of you is having a really bad day?

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marcyvamp1re-blog · 2 months ago

Text

Devil in Paradise

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Scott Summers x Mutant!Reader.

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

sinopsis ⸺ In a world where light and darkness intertwine, Scott Summers is the guardian of a shattered reality. His love for you, a spark in the gloom, becomes a chain that binds your fate to his. Trapped between his devotion and his obsession, the line between protection and possession blurs, revealing an abyss of dark passion. As echoes of the past resonate and shadows lurk, your heart, marked by his fervor, confronts the most dreaded question: is his love your salvation or your doom?

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, invasion of privacy, scars, ¿kidnapping?, delusion, Angst, murdering, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation. The reader is referred to as a student, but she is of legal age.

A/N — English is not my first language—Spanish is— I'm sorry to the little person who asked me for this, but the message got deleted :"(. I was about to post it, but then I realized that what I wrote wasn't saved and I had to delete the post. Sorry for the inconvenience.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... met you in your most vulnerable moment. After the devastating breakup with Jean, the only thing keeping Scott sane was his duty as a leader. On a mission, he found you in a cage, trembling, dirty, and resigned to your fate. Something in you awakened his protective instinct. He carried you out in his arms, whispering promises that you would be safe with him. That day, something in his heart began to change.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...took you to the X-Mansion. Despite his tensions with Jean, he decided to stay by your side when you begged him not to leave. Every day, Scott sat by your bed in the infirmary, tending to your wounds. While Jean examined you, he calmed you down, his hands never leaving yours. With each word of encouragement you gave him, he convinced himself that only he could save you from the cruel world.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... agrees to train you after Professor Xavier noticed your strong attachment to him. At first, Scott thought it would be better to keep his distance, but every time he saw you, his need to protect you grew. Your dependence fed him, and soon he became your mentor, teaching you to control your powers with an almost suffocating devotion.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... enjoys the moments when you lean on him during training. Every time you faltered, his arms caught you, and his soft voice assured you that he was there for you, always. The sweat on your skin, the slight tremor in your hands, all made him feel closer to you, as if he were your personal savior. He knew no one else could understand you like he did.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...has a fight with Jean when she questions his relationship with you. "She's your student, Scott! You can't be with her like that!" Jean shouted. But Scott, blinded by his obsession, no longer listened to her. "She needs me, Jean. You never understood." The argument escalated to the point where both lost control of their powers. The room ended up destroyed, and although neither of them died, the confrontation made it clear to everyone that Scott would do whatever it took to keep you by his side, even facing his former love.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... wakes up early every day, ensuring that your routine is perfectly calculated. From your breakfast to your training, nothing escapes his control. He hands you a cup of milk every morning, watching with a calm smile as you take the first sip. Sometimes, in the kitchen, his fingers brush against yours, and although it seems casual, the pressure of his touch is too firm, too insistent. "You need to be at your best," he says softly, his eyes hidden behind the visor. "I don’t want you to be defenseless again. Not like that time."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... while training you, catches you every time you fail at a move before you can fall. Too fast. Always there. As if the ground was never an option for you while he was near. The closeness between you is almost suffocating, but Scott never notices, or if he does, it doesn't seem to matter to him. His hands linger too long on your waist, his whispers are too intimate.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... can barely control the jealousy that burns in his chest when someone else pays you attention. Once, during a mission, Morph made a joke about your abilities. Everyone laughed, but Scott did not. His jaw tightened, and his eyes, though hidden, seemed to bore into Morph's neck. That same night, he found you in the hallways, too close to Morph's room for his liking. "What were you doing talking so much with him?" His tone was soft, but the pressure of his fingers on your wrist was not. "You shouldn’t get too close to people like him. He doesn’t understand what you need. Not like I do."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... finally could no longer contain his confession. He caught you one afternoon, right after training. You were tired, exhausted from the day, but he was closer than ever, his breath quickened, the words about to spill over. "I can’t keep quiet about this." His hands closed around your arms, but not with the softness of before. There was desperation in his gestures. "I need you. You don’t understand what it means to me that you’re here. I can’t lose you, I can’t… not after Jean." His ex's name echoed in the room but was quickly replaced by the echo of your name, said over and over like a mantra, a longing. "You don’t know how much I longed for someone like you to appear. Someone who wouldn’t leave me, who needs me as much as I need you."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... sometimes lets his darker side take over. One night, while you tried to escape the Mansion for a few hours to clear your mind and go out with your friends, you found him waiting for you at the door, his tall, dark figure outlined against the dim light outside. The smell of damp earth and the fog rising around him gave him an almost ghostly presence. "You shouldn’t try to leave without me," he said softly, stepping closer. "The world is dangerous, Y/N. You know that. I can’t leave you alone." His hand rose to caress your face, but the softness of that gesture contrasted with the edge in his words. "I would never do that."

Yandere! Scott Summers who... isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty if someone gets too close to you. Once, you saw his knuckles bloodied after Morph accompanied you back to the Mansion after a mission. Scott didn’t say much about what had happened, only told you that Morph "finally understood." And although you wanted to ask more, the sharp tone in his voice made you quiet.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... firmly believes that everything he does is for your well-being. His thoughts grow darker every day, but in his mind, every action is justified. "I’m saving you, Y/N. I’m saving you from pain, from loss… from what the world would do to you if I’m not here to protect you." And although the darkness of his words surrounds you, you realize that escaping from his shadow is almost impossible. Because somewhere deep in your mind, a part of you starts to believe him.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... longs for a life with you that goes beyond the confines of the X-Mansion. In his mind, the echoes of small children's laughter fill the empty hallways, and in every dark corner, he imagines a family he never had. He envisions you as the mother of his children, caring for them with the same devotion he feels for you. "Can you imagine?" he murmurs one night while looking into your eyes, his hands gently stroking your hair. "A house full of laughter... it would be perfect." His voice has a hint of madness as he describes his vision of life together. The idea of a family gives him a reason to live, a way to redeem the pain he carries with him. In his world, there is nothing purer than the love he could offer you, nor anything more sacred than the family they would build.

Yandere! Scott Summers que... se convierte en un observador silencioso de tus noches. Cuando finalmente el sueño te conquista, se sienta en un rincón de tu habitación, la luz tenue proyecta sombras sobre su rostro. Te observa dormir y siente que le duele el corazón. A menudo se queda allí durante horas, asegurándose de que estás bien, sintiendo que cada segundo que te observa lo une más a ti. "No puedo dejar que nada te haga daño, T/N", susurra, como si los murmullos pudieran protegerte incluso en tus sueños. Te imagina girando en la oscuridad, buscando su presencia, y se siente satisfecho. "Eres mía", repite en su mente, como un mantra que lo ancla a la realidad.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... has turned the space between you into a battleground. Every time others approach, like when you have joint training with Ororo or share a laugh with Jubilee, his face darkens. "Why don’t you look at me?" he asks softly, a tone laden with insecurity in his words. His reaction is almost automatic, and when you drift too far away, he feels the air leave his lungs. "I just want you to be safe, Y/N," he says, and that need consumes him. The dependence you have developed towards him becomes a refuge, but also a burden, a reminder that his hopes are intertwined with your presence.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... fears that one day you will leave him. So, every night, before the darkness envelops everything, he makes sure to seal his love in your mind. As he closes his eyes, he imagines whispering promises of a future together, full of children running around the house, of a home where laughter drowns out the pain of the past. "I will always be here to protect you. I will always be your refuge," he says while stroking your cheek, his touch a gentle reminder of what you mean to him. As days turn into weeks, and weeks into months, the idea of losing you drives him mad, and his love becomes a chain that binds him as much to you as to himself.

Yandere! Scott Summers who... finds satisfaction in the moments when he sees you vulnerable. When you are sad, he is the first to come to you, wrapping you in his embrace and ensuring you feel his warmth. "You will never be alone again, Y/N. Not when I have the strength to protect you from everything outside," he murmurs. In those moments, his desire to bind you to him becomes a purpose: he watches you cry and, although his heart breaks, he also feels a kind of power in being able to comfort you. "You are so strong, but also so fragile. And I... I can’t let the world hurt you," he confesses, a dark gleam in his eyes.

Yandere! Scott Summers who...feels more like your guardian than a partner every day. In his mind, there is no space for doubt. The idea of a family becomes an obsession, and the need to protect you from any pain consumes him. "If you ever leave me, I don’t know what I’ll do," he confesses to you on a dark night, while the stars blink indifferently. "I can’t lose you, Y/N. Never. I need you too much." In his mind, every word is a promise, every look is a chain that binds you closer to him.

Because you were only his,

you knew that, didn’t you?

A/N ──── When I received the message, I was in math class, and I spent five minutes thinking about who Scott Summers was (I don't know why I thought of Twilight) until I realized he was Cyclops. The night before, I was debating with a friend about how he had relationships xD.

Personally, Scott is not my favorite character from X-men, but I find him very interesting, especially how he lives day to day with his mutation. I've never been interested in his relationships (because I don't care about them, especially Jean, who is one of my least favorites among the female characters in Marvel). I think I like the Cyclops from the movies and from the series more than in the comics, but just a little.

Again, sorry for the inconvenience of the message.

Take a bath!

#x reader #yan blog #fem reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere x men #yandere marvel #yandere male #scott summers #marvel x you #marvel x reader #marvel xmen #marvel #marvel x y/n #scott summers x reader #yandere scott summers

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lohotine · 9 months ago

Text

Shadow Milk Angst

Oneshot

Warnings: Angst

-Comedic Relief-

Jester: A person who habitually plays the fool.

What a joke.

A jester should entertain and wow the audience.

So... why are you crying?

Is it because you're alone? Is this seal too empty for you?

You're really afraid of an empty room?

That's pathetic. You're supposed to be one of the five beasts.

Seeing you cry isn't entertaining.

Do something funny.

Stop crying.

Stopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcryingstopcrying-

....

"Hardships are meant to be shared!"

Oh. Look! It's your cheap imitation.

Look at him. He's free, he's happy, he's liked by others.

Why aren't you?

Maybe... he really is better than you.

Shadow Milk Cookie... has been surpassed by this nobody?

Now that's funny!

But it's not fair.

Oh please, you deserved this.

You are a beast after all.

So much blood has been drawn by your hands. So many lives have been lost, and so many have suffered. This is less than you deserve, Shadow Milk Cookie.

But you can keep telling yourself that.

Keep telling yourself that this isn't fair, even if it's false.

Lying seems to be your thing, after all.

How can you fool others if you cannot first fool yourself?

Just keep acting. Keep pretending like you aren't scared.

Don't stop moving, don't stop lying.

Never let that mask fall from your face, not even in your most desperate of dances.

You're just a comedic relief. And comedic reliefs don't cry.

So why are you still crying?

#cookie run kingdom #crk #cookie run #shadow milk #shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie crk #cookie run kingdom shadow milk cookie #shadow milk cookie angst #shadow milk cookie x reader #angst #crk x reader #crk angst #beast yeast

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uwukillmenowowo · 6 months ago

Note

Hello sorry if this is a bad time but I have a request, I saw that you write for Cookie run Kingdom and I was wondering if you could write a new where the reader is Elder Faerie Cookie's child, you can choose if their biological or not, but the reader is also the reincarnation of someone the beast cookies cared about, I just thought that dynamic would be interesting, but if you're not comfortable with writing this that's completely alright and I wish you a good morning/afternoon or goodnight😊.

YO- I'M NOT EVEN KIDDING I HAD AN IDEA SIMILAR TO THIS-

You have a good day/night too!

( >︠ ω ︡<)/

Curiosity

[PLATONIC]

(Parent! Elder Fairie Cookie X Reader X Parental! Beast Cookies)

(Slight White Lily X Reader)

Notes:

Reader will be Non-binary

The story will start with how you met the beast cookies

Then it will show how they created their parental bond with Elder Fairie

For the Beasts, I made up new names for their past selves before they became corrupted.

Reader was one of the most optimistic [Flavor] cookies one would meet.

The kind to give out flowers to make cookies' day better, presenting a beautiful frosty white smile to every cookie they walked by.

Practically every cookie that passed by them was filled with joy.

Oh shit I think this is my longest post-

..... I think I forgot something here but I can't remember what it is...

It started.... one too many eons ago. During times when they weren't who they used to be.

Warning! Mentions of Death!

{Third POV}

~~~~~

[Reader] wowed at the structure before them. The library that was said to be built was finally finished. They walked into the library and awed at all the books there. However, the building was empty.

"Good afternoon young one." The young cookie flinched and turned around, to see a cookie with blue eyes and golden brown dough. But what caught the attention of the young cookie was the beautiful gem that was displayed on his collar. "H-Hello" [Reader] answered nervously. "Did you come for a specific book?" The older cookie asked. To that, [Reader] nodded.

"Excellent! What kind?" He asked. [Reader] chuckled and rubbed their arm. "Uhhh... The-Thea-tri-cal." [Reader] answered with hesitation, due to them being young and unknowledgeable. "Do you mean Theatrical? Ones about shows and plays?" The blue eyed cookie asked with a smile. [Reader] nodded excitedly, explaining that they've heard some other cookies talking about it and was curious.

"That would be this way." The librarian started to lead the way towards the children's section, searching for the "puppet shows" books. "So, what's your name little cookie? Shouldn't you be with your parents?" [Reader] laughed as they found a book they liked. "My name is [Reader] Cookie. You can call me [Reader]. Dad crumbled and mom followed after. How about you, mister?" The little cookie answered as if it was a normal thing to say aloud.

The librarian gasped and held their hand to their mouth before taking in a deep breath and sat beside [Reader]. "Oh My Witches... My name is Blueberry Milk Cookie. Feel free to call me Blueberry Milk." [Reader] smiled and nodded before they started to read. blueberry Milk Cookie gave a sad look towards [Reader]. 'They're... all alone' He thought as he turned his gaze to the book that [Reader] was holding. "How old are you? You seem to understand this book really well." He asked.

"Hmm? Oh, I'm six." It was like a punch to the gut to Blueberry Milk Cookie. "[Reader], if you need anything, you can come to me okay?" The librarian offered, wanting to help the child before him. "Okay." [Reader] responded. [Reader] and Blueberry Milk spent hours together, until [Reader] decided to leave.

After leaving the Library, [Reader] started running, only to bump into multiple cookies. "Oh- Sorry about-" "Watch it, Kid!" The young cookie went wide eyed as the older cookies glared at them. "I-I didn't mean to- I was just- AHH!" The younger cookie screamed as the older cookies grabbed them by their shirt collar.

"What's going on here?" The older cookies let go of [Reader], causing them to fall on their butt as they watched the exchange. "Strawberry Sugar Cookie!" They exclaimed happily. [Reader] scooted back in worry. After all, all they saw was pink. The owner of that pink wore a crown as well, as if they were the current King or Queen of the kingdom.

"Oh my! Who is this?" [Reader] yelped as they were suddenly picked up by the cookie they were just worried about. Pink robes, wings and a halo, but like with Blueberry Milk Cookie, what drawn [Reader] to this cookie, was the heart shaped gem that was in the crown the the cookie who picked them up. "Oh goodness! You're hurt, worry not, I have a friend who will fix your dough!" They smiled before suddenly taking flight.

"WAAHHH!" [Reader] screamed and tightly held onto the pink robed cookie. "Is everything alright?" Strawberry Sugar asked. [Reader] just shrugged and looked down, only to regret it and unconsciously nuzzle into the crook of her neck in fear. "Oh dear, not a fan of heights? What's your name?" [Reader] told her their name and Strawberry Sugar responded happily. "Well it's nice to meet you [Reader]! My name is Strawberry Sugar Cookie." [Reader] almost felt that Strawberry Sugar's happiness was infectious and smiled.

After a joyful conversation to take [Reader]'s mind off the height they were flying at, they reached a temple. A temple so grand that [Reader] has never seen anything like it. But something else, was that there was an enormous line. "So many people!" [Reader] stood close to Strawberry Sugar.

1: To not get lost

2: Everyone was too loud and [Reader] didn't like it

3: WHERE EVEN WERE THEY???

[Reader] followed Strawberry Sugar as they practically cut through the line. Of course, other people objected and tried to cut as well but the guards blocked them. Some guards tried to "protect" Strawberry Sugar by grabbing [Reader] away from them. But after Strawberry Sugar explained that you two went to visit "Her" together, they let you go.

You walked up stairs and stairs, passing halls, and beautiful depictions along stained glass. "So... Who is Her?" The small cookie asked with a tilt of their head. "Oh? I haven't told you? We're gonna fix that little wounds of yours little one. The one going to do that~" With a dramatic pause, Strawberry Sugar pulled a curtain, revealing a figure dressed in white. "Is Wheat Flour Cookie!"

"Strawberry Sugar... What have I told you about our volume in my temple?" Strawberry Sugar flinched and pouted, taking a few steps back. You awed at the white dressed cookie that was sitting before you. "G-Good afternoon Ma'am." [Reader] responded politely with a bow.

Strawberry Sugar and Wheat Flour talked about why her and [Reader] were here. Soon after, Strawberry Sugar left [Reader] alone with the healer.

"So... Enlighten me, what happened young cookie?"

{Second POV}

~~~~~

You kneeled and sat on your knees just like Wheat Flour Cookie. "Umm..." You hesitated, not knowing where to start. "How about we start from the beginning. What did you do today?" You hummed as you started recalling your day. The cookies talking about that play, meeting Blueberry Milk Cookie, reading, running into two older male cookies and getting threatened, meeting Strawberry Sugar Cookie, flying to the temple, and then right now.

Wheat Flour nodded and took your small dough hands into her own before giving some advice. Telling you to simply ignore those who wish harm upon you and that you should continue to find joy and hope in your life. Suddenly, with a white and golden glow, all the wounds you previously had were healed.

You were in awe and Wheat Flour told you to sit beside her as she tended to other cookies. You just nodded and sat beside her. Those next few hours were spent helping Wheat Flour with the other cookies.

You had fun and when you left you saw Strawberry Sugar Cookie just laying down, sleeping. You were in shock. 'Did she wait for me?' You thought and smiled before gently shaking her awake. "Oh... all done?" She asked as she rubbed her eyes. You nodded and she smiled. "Good. A little birdie told me that you met Blueberry Milk Cookie before this. Is that right?" You nodded and her eyes sparkled. "Wonderful! You know, Him, me and Wheat Flour are really good friends."

You wowed. They were friends? You had no clue. "Would you like to meet the other two?" She asked with a tilt of her head. You nodded eagerly. The cookies you've met so far were some of the nicest people you've met. You were.... happy.

Strawberry Sugar pulled you close to her before jumping and flying off one of the many cliffs. You screamed again, but instead of fear, it was in excitement. Strawberry Sugar would do cool flips and tricks with you tightly holding on. It was so much fun, just flying above Crispia.

"And here!" Strawberry Sugar said as you two landed. "It's so hot!" You sweatdropped and fanned yourself with your hand. "Ahah~! Yeah- Crushed Spice Cookie and Sea Salt Cookie like warm areas." You hummed at the explanation and you kicked your feet in the sand, not used to being so close to the water. "Heheh~ Do you like the sand?" Strawberry Sugar asked as she followed behind you.

You nodded, digging your feet into the sand before the waves suddenly washed onto the shore, splashing onto your clothes and your dough. You flinched and accidentally fell into the water and Strawberry Sugar laughed before helping you up. "Oh dear! how clumsy!" She picked you up and dusted the sand off your clothes. You chuckled as she pat you head and started leading you towards somewhere.

"So... Salt and Spice? What are they like?" You asked. Strawberry Sugar hummed in thought. "Crushed Spice is... really competitive. And Sea Salt is pretty... reserved?" Strawberry Sugar shrugged. "I haven't seen them in a while so I can't remember at the top of my head."

After a few more minutes of walking you found yourself in front of a nice house. Strawberry Sugar, noticing the look you were giving, said, "It's bigger on the inside. They both don't like cramped spaces." You asked if they lived together and she nodded, saying how those two acted like brothers.

Strawberry Sugar barged in and you followed. You felt bad for entering uninvited but it is what it is. You continued to follow Strawberry Sugar since you didn't want to get lost. Once she stopped walking, you looked in front to see two cookies with... really funny bedheads. You can't really blame them though, you left Wheat Flour's temple at dusk and Strawberry Sugar and you decided to fly the whole night. So when you got there it was only dawn.

The red one looked angry while the lavender one just looked extremely tired. The more angry one, you guess was Crushed Spice. He just walked up to Strawberry Sugar before grabbing her by her collar and dragging her. Strawberry Sugar tried protesting but then just crossed her arms and pouted.

You didn't know how to feel since you were just left alone with Sea Salt Cookie. It was silent as you two just stood there. until Sea Salt asked if you wanted a snack. You nodded and walked with the lavender cookie into the kitchen. He asked what kind of snack you wanted and you said you were fine with anything since you were a guest.

He just nodded before pouring you a bowl of cereal. You took it, thanked him and sat at the table to eat. It was comfortable silence for you two... Until you heard screaming and shouting from Strawberry Sugar and Crushed Spice. You gave a worried looked to Sea Salt but he just chuckled and told you that it's fine and that they do that all the time. You just nodded slowly, eating you food but stopping halfway once you saw Strawberry Sugar seemingly running for her dough from a flaring Crushed Spice.

As much as you were worried, you found it extremely fun.

Ever since those two days, you've been... seeing them more often.

Blueberry Milk Cookie would sit beside you when you visited the library and read to you

Strawberry Sugar Cookie would practically fly you anywhere you wanted

Wheat Flour Cookie would send you letters with different incenses... Sometimes even first aid kits...

Crushed Spice Cookie is technically your babysitter whenever Strawberry Sugar can't. At first you thought he doesn't like you but he's really soft with you... Even though he makes you do exercises with him...

Finally, Sea Salt Cookie. He's pretty chill. You two would just take naps most of the time. His room is just the right temperature to sleep forever.

The five of them acted like the parents you never had. It made you happy.

Everything went well...

Until it didn't...

That fated day their souls turned black.

You went to visit Wheat Flour Cookie because it was the anniversary you met everyone. You already gave your gifts to the others, Wheat Flour waas last because you knew how busy she was.

Now normally you'd wait in line with everyone else but today since you were just going to go in and out, you decided to use your "VIP Card" that she gave you. But others got pissed. They were jealous and confused. Why would you, a small cookie that looked like the happiest cookie they could be, want to go see Wheat Flour Cookie?

No cookie acted until a middle aged cookie did. They ran out of line and grabbed you by the shoulder. "Hey! What do you think you're doing?!" You just blinked twice and gave them a smile, holding up the gift you were going to give. "I'm going to give this to Wheat Flour Cookie." The smile you gave just pissed them off as they asked why you weren't going o line up. You told them the reason, that you wouldn't take a long time and that you had a VIP card.

The cookie just stared down at the card before smirking. "Say.. Can I.. Borrow that for a bit?" You were about to lend it but you remembered what Wheat Flour said. "Sorry. I would but Wheat Flour said that this was only mine. It has my name." You flipped the card, showing your name. "[Reader] Cookie..." The cookie before you glared at the card before looking back at the line. "Can I... come with you then?"

You didn't see a problem with that so you nodded. Other cookies who saw the exchange, started to run out of the line to talk with you. Until a massive group started to run over to you so that they could talk to Wheat Flour cookie before everyone else. You held the gift close to your chest and sucked in your breath as the other cookies started yelling excuses, causing the guard cookies to have trouble keeping people in line.

"My family is sick!"

"My family is poor!"

"My daughter-"

"My Son-"

"My Father-"

"My Mother-"

"My Brother-"

"My Sister-"

"Aunt!"

"Uncle!"

The excuses kept coming as you tried to get away. No cookie admitted that they wanted everything for themselves. You didn't know how to answer any of it. You didn't have the power to choose one over the other. Until finally, a cookie, desperate enough, grabbed the sword off one of the guard cookies and stabbed you from behind.

You screamed in pain, dropping the gift you brought and coughed. Chaos erupted after that. Cookies started attacking each other left and right. One of the guard cookies, picked you up before running to where Wheat Flour was.

"MY LADY!" They yelled, barging through the door. Wheat Flour, who was just waiting for the next cookie to come in, was in complete shock as she saw you looking pale and panting heavily. "W-What happened?!" She asked as the guard placed you before her. "A fight broke out in front of the temple." They explained, saluting. Wheat Flour, using her magic to look at what was happening was in shock. This has never happened before.

"Call the others. I cannot handle this myself, considering the amount of Cookies there are." The guard nodded and left, leaving you in the arms of Wheat Flour. She tried her best to heal you but it was barely effective. The wound was too deep and you lost too much. Wheat Flour started panicking. She gently patted your cheeks, trying to get you to stay awake but it wasn't working.

"No- no no no no no-! Come now- Don't- Don't do this to me-" Wheat Flour panted as tears reached her eyes. In that very moment, the others came in. "Wheat Flour! What's going ooAAAAAHHHh!" Strawberry Sugar Cookie screamed as she saw the state you were in. She raced over to where you were, already bursting into tears. "What happened?!? Who did this!!?" Strawberry Sugar took you into her arms, holding you tight, trying to see if you were still breathing.

Desperate banging and screaming could be heard on the other side of the temple doors. "We'll keep the cookies at bay! Take care of [Reader]!" Crushed Spice Cookie snarled as Blueberry Milk and Sea Salt followed.

Wheat Flour and Strawberry Sugar tried to use their magic to heal you but it barely worked. Strawberry Sugar started to hyperventilate as Wheat Flour's hand started shaking. They both saw your breathing get slower and slower until it became nonexistent... and finally... they snapped.

Outside, Blueberry Milk, Crushed Spice, and Sea Salt tried their best to not hurt any of the other cookies. But it all went out the window when they heard Strawberry Sugar's scream. They've never heard her scream like that before. But what shocked them was that she flew up, just above the temple, and used her magic to blast the cookies away, killing them.

Cookies who saw that started running off. But they weren't able to get far because Wheat Flour was there to stop them. Both girls made cookies crumble and the others didn't know what to do... When they caught sight of the temple, they caught a clear sight of your crumbled body, clearly unmoving. Blueberry Milk covered his mouth while Sea Salt gasped as his legs shook. Crushed Spice gritted his teether before all he saw was blood red. He grabbed the sword he once used against enemies and used it against his fellow cookies.

That one, anger-filled strike, caused one of Wheat Flour's mountains to split in two. With that, Blueberry Milk and Sea Salt followed, using their own powers to use against the other cookies.

After all the cookies have crumbled, the gang became enraged. They were blinded by their hatred and grief that they went all around Crispia, crumbling any cookie they saw. This went on for years...

Until the Witches caught notice. they sealed the enraged Cookies in the remote continent of Beast Yeast. Before they saw your crumbled body. They felt it all. The pain and regret you held in your heart. You were too young to experience all that.

The Witches decided to place your soul in a newly baked body before they placed you before the Fairie Kingdom. Elder Fairie cookie found and he received a prophecy from the Witches.

The Witches explained how they entrusted some of the Beast's powers to the child so that the beasts cannot reclaim their full power because they know that the Beasts wouldn't harm the child. Elder Fairie understood and took in the child as his own. Not only so that the child could help quell the beasts from destroying the Fairie Kingdom but so that he could help the child control their powers when they're older.

Years passed and [Reader] was now a teenager [Even though they're like- Hundreds of years old by now]. They were doing their daily chores. When suddenly, he saw Silverbell cookie with someone they've never seen before. She had white hair and a floral green dress. "Ah! Your Highness! What timing." You nodded. "Silverbell Cookie. Who is this?" You asked as you fixed your clothes. "Oh, this is White Lily Cookie. She saved me while I was wounded."

You gave a sympathetic gaze to Silverbell and you bowed your head to White Lily. "Oh goodness! Thank you for helping him. Silverbell Cookie can be very... frail." You chuckled as Silverbell gave you a pout.

"Oh! You must be Elder Fairie Cookie that I've been hearing about then? You're much younger than I expected." White Lily gave you a smile and you laughed bashfully. "Ahahah! Actually no! That's my father. My name is [Reader] Cookie." White Lily gasped and rubbed the back of her neck, apologizing. You told her that everything was fine and you offered to introduce her to your father. She accepted happily and you dismissed Silverbell before leading her through the kingdom.

Seeing White Lily's awestruck gaze, you found yourself staring at her a little too long that you tripped over your feet. "Oh goodness! Here, let me help you." You felt your dough heat up as you took her hand and stood up. "Thank you..." You replied bashfully before continuing to lead her through the Kingdom. For some reason... Her smile reminded you of someone. You... can't remember where though.

When you introduced her to Elder Fairie, he was shocked. A cookie from a different continent... here? Interacting with his child- UUHHH- WHAT'S WITH THAT SMILE YOU'RE GIVING HER???

Elder Fairie looked between you two but kept his calm. You told him everything that Silverbell told you and Elder Fairie nodded. He just asked you to tour her around and you walked away with her happily.

'My child- With a girl???' Elder Fairie looked looked around desperately trying to find an excuse as to pry you away from White Lily. 'They're too young still! I never even let them out of the kingdom! Suddenly there's a girl they look fond of???' Elder Fairie went to his chambers to think.

Meanwhile, you were showing White Lily every crevice of the kingdom, loving how fascinated she was with everything you showed her. But then you shivered 'Why do I feel like I'm going to get punished for some reason..?' you thought in confusion before shaking it off, turning your attention back to White Lily.

"AAAGH! The seal is cracking!!"

"Your Majesty! Are you hurt?!"

"No, I'm unharmed! [Reader], are you alright?"

"I'm okay..."

The seal... you've heard about it from your father. You were told that ancient beings laid dormant in the silver tree. Beings that turned to beasts and wrecked havoc in the olden days. Your father told you how each beast had a soul jam. however, once the beasts were trapped, their soul jam was lost and given to other cookies. One of them being White Lily Cookie. You were worried for her safety but if she holds ancient powers then your fears are quelled.

"And evil will that has focused all its rage on breaking free from confinement. It must have angered the Beasts greatly now that each Soul Jam has found its rightful owner. Yes... they sensed that unless they escape now... they might never be granted another chance in the future. All their might now serves one single purpose- destroying the hated seal."

"Everyone, we must stand our ground. Our place now is by the Guardian of the Seal!" White Lily claimed as she stood beside you. "We shall protect His Majesty or crumble! For if the Guardian falls, there is no way to stop the Beasts from escaping." You helped White Lily motivate the other guards as you all raced to the silver tree. To see a major split.

"The seal has already split so wide..." White Lily gasped. You took her hand into yours. Telling her that it was all going to be okay, then gave her a reassuring nod. She smiled and then raised her staff. "Everyone, fight with me!"

Shadowy beings crawled out of the seal as cookies started fighting. White Lily started charging a powerful attack as someone started to protect the spellcaster. Which just so happened to be you.

"𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎… 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚟𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎…"

You gasped as a voice suddenly played through you head. "Hello..?" You whispered as you continued to protect White Lily.

"𝙳𝚘𝚗'𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚕 𝚖𝚎…… [𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛]..?"

You tensed up. as the voice said your name. "How do you know me..?" You bit the inside of your cheek but before the voice answered, White Lily's attack hit. Blocking the beasts and preventing the voice from talking with you.

You furrowed your brows, your curiosity is now peaked and you wanted to know how the voice knew you.

However, we all know the saying,

"Curiosity Killed the Cat"

Okay- I'm tired now-

Like for a part 2

( ─ . ─ )✌

Goodnight

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minty-drop · 10 months ago

Note

Can I’m have a platonic request of the five beasts x child reader who is one of them who posses the virtue of innocence reader smile and cuteness always have bring happiness and joy to the five beasts but after they got corrupted the last thing they see his reader crying heartbroken asking them why before they get completely sealed after that reader virtue innocence turns into grief as they isolated themselves in beast yeast even after many years cries of a heartbroken child are still heard trough all beasts yeast headcanons

This request is so good wtf. Im in love with this big brain energy

The beasts x child reader

Tw: angst,

Type: platonic.as close as you can get to canon or theory of what is canonically accurate. Angst. Reader is gn

They all adored you, it being shown through many activities, words or actions throughout your time with them.

You were there pure, bright light of joy, an innocence that was refreshing from the unholy.

A child they could raise, a child they could keep, one that would not wither away from age or crumble in the hands of others.

Enteral sugars cloud was a misty yet comforting lounge for you and her to enjoy the breeze, taking sight and eyeing the wonders that graces earth-bread.

Burning spice, oh he’d never admit it, but he found it adorable when you would hang onto the halo that spun behind his dough while he sparred.

Mystic flour encouraged you to join her in walks through the mystical forest, taking joy in seeing you become fond with its beautiful wild life.

Silent salt spending those moments with care with you in silent while you slept peacefully by his side as he sharpened his blade, so careful not to wake you from your slumber.

Shadow milk, who would put on the greatest of great shows when you attended, keeping you in his sight at all times to hear your shouts of excitement and fits of giggles through the experience

A happy little bundle of joy, stuck cozy in between there arms that protected you from any harm that could come your way.

And when they turned sour, there were no more times to attend to you. They had gotten so tied up in there own mess of chaos, they never saw when you cried as mystic flour burned the forest to the ground, they never heard you beg shadow milk to stop hurting the cookies, they never heard or saw you. Only focusing on keeping you, not how you felt.

they regretted that when those twisted pitch forks came down on them from those witches. Seeing you crying in front of them hurt, but you crying because of them hurt..a lot

The beasts tried to speak to you before you were taken away from them, in there finally times in this era, they could only reach out, crying out for you to come back. Save them from this wicked end.

Grieving for hundreds, if not thousands of years, locking yourself away from the outside world in the hollow of beast yeast, waiting for the sickening torture to end.

#crk #crk x reader #cr kingdom #crk beast yeast #crk shadow milk cookie #crk eternal sugar #x reader #crk mystic flour #crk silent salt #crk burning spice #platonic #shadow milk cookie x reader

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formerlycookierunauprompts · 11 months ago

Note

I'm a sucker for fluffy prompts...maybe something with sleepy cuddles with shadow milk? (I apologize If this is a bit vague I'm not the best at wording things like this, haha.)

so I may have felt like doing a bit of pre-corruption Shadow Milk writing... :3 anyways enjoy!!

Requested Prompts #22 - 💝💓

You stalked through the halls of the Spire of Knowledge, if your gut feeling was correct then surely Shadow Milk Cookie was not taking a break like you told him to... Again. And sure enough, upon entering his room, you found him slumped over his desk surrounded by books, papers and the like. All in the pursuit of knowledge, was always his excuse for overworking himself. You certainly didn't like it, but what could you do to stop someone who was quite literally a giant most of the time? You sigh, at least you didn't have to climb tables and walls and basically anything just to talk to him. Blessed be the witches that you were baked with the ability to create portals. So, with a quick portal on up, you were standing on the table. " Shadow Milk Cookie," You began, stern and concerned. " What have I told you about staying up so late?" You see him stir, his blue eyes flickering open before settling onto your tiny form. " Reader Cookie..." He mumbled out, resting a hand behind you. " I didn't mean to this- yawn- time..." You sigh, he must have lost track of the time again. You let him press you against his cheek, as some sort of weird abstract cuddle sort of thing. " Alright, alright. Just make sure to get to bed soon, it's three AM." " Yeah yeah... i get it..." He mumbled, already drifting back asleep. It was hard to not see him as adorable sometimes, yet he worked too hard! If only you were big like the saviors, then you'd be able to do something more. But you still do as much as you can with your small stature, and so far it's been enough. But... There might come a time where you won't be enough. But it's probably far off in the future, so it won't be a problem... Right? ... Right.

#cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run au #crk #shadow milk cookie #cookie run au prompts #cr kingdom #beast yeast #shadow milk cookie x reader #might have thrown in some angst as well. fuck.#angsty fluff #anon if you want me to redo it then i will with proper eepy fluff

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s-lverwing · 4 months ago

Text

01. SIN

pairing. aegon targaryen x velaryon (targaryen)!reader x maelor targaryen (aegon’s twin).

summary. thoughts weight heavier than ever as you realize what’s expected from you; having a secret relationship with the king’s heir isn’t one. destiny can be defied, but duty must be followed.

word count. 4.8k (sorry). ao3 link

warnings. angst, targcest (niece and uncle), manipulation, toxic relationships. heavy pinning. kind of infidelity? english isn’t my first language and i haven’t read the books.

a/n. i got this idea from watching domina hehe and i thought it would be fun to explore this little idea i had of aegon having a twin brother that looks like a hightower. i stretched a bit what happens from driftmark until viserys dies, since i was missing more years . so this is aegon being 18-19 me and the reader is one or two years younger than him . and helaena and aegon aren’t paired yet because i don’t have the heart to make her bear children at 14 yo .

The night was still, as if the very walls of the Red Keep were holding their breath. Not even the usual footfalls of the royal guards echoed through the dim lighted corridors, nor did the familiar murmur of chambermaids’ gossip snake its way to your ears. The rat catchers had already done their work in the lower floors, leaving behind a silence that felt as suffocating as it was unusual.

Yet it wasn’t the silence that weighed so heavily on your heart—it was something deeper, something that clawed at your insides and left an acrid taste in your mouth. The Red Keep, once a place of grandeur and life, now seemed to pulse with a strange, ominous energy. You could feel it in the air, thick and oppressive, and you couldn’t help but link it to King Viserys’ worsening condition. He was a shadow of his former self, a walking corpse whose very presence seemed to taint the air with decay. The stench of his rotting flesh clung to him like a shroud, especially when mixed with the smell of milk of the poppy. He was nothing but a walking dead, a man who no longer belonged among the living. It almost served as a reminder of the state of the Kingdom.

The court was no longer the vibrant place of your childhood memories. It was a place of whispers and shadows, of secrets buried so deep they festered in the dark. You could feel the weight of those secrets pressing down on you, a burden you were not ready to carry but could no longer ignore. The responsibilities you had once tried to deny now loomed over you like a dark cloud.

And then there was Aegon. The mere thought of him brought a new kind of tension to your chest, one that was equal parts longing and dread. What you shared with him was a dangerous game, one that could end badly only for you. The risk was immense, but so too was the pull you felt towards him—a pull you could not resist, no matter how much you knew you should. You knew all too well what would happen if the rumors spread, if someone caught the two of you in a compromising position. There was no place for such reckless passion in the Red Keep, no room for fleeting romances or secret rendezvous. Not when you weren’t cunning enough to know how to hide away from their prying eyes. You were being watched, judged, and weighed against the expectations of a world that would crush you if you strayed too far from the path laid out before you.

Ser Otto Hightower’s words echoed in your mind, a constant reminder of the duty and honor that were supposed to guide you. He had been the only Hightower to show you any semblance of kindness after Lucerys had taken Aemond’s eye. It was a kindness that clung to your memory like a fragile, half-forgotten dream, overshadowed by the cruel realities that had since unfolded. Like a small mercy.

You couldn’t help but feel trapped, suffocating under the weight of expectations you had never wanted. And yet, you could not bring yourself to let go of Aegon, no matter how much you knew you should. The risk, the danger, the sheer madness of it all only seemed to draw you closer to him, even as you felt the noose tightening around your neck.

And as you stood there, alone in the drowning darkness of your chamber, you couldn’t help but wonder how much longer you could keep this up—how much longer you could pretend that everything was fine when, deep down, you knew that everything was about to fall apart.

The quiet creak of the wooden doors took you away from your thoughts, but you didn’t turn from the window. The night outside was as dark and impenetrable as your own thoughts. You didn’t need to look to know who had entered; Aegon’s footsteps were as familiar to you as the beating of your own heart, an echo of years spent together in a world that seemed increasingly distant now. His scent, a heady mix of wine and something uniquely him, filled the room, bringing with it an uneasy comfort that had long since become part of you since this started.

He approached with a lazy grace, as if the world and all its troubles were mere trifles to him. His arms snaked around your waist, drawing you back against him, his head finding its place on your bare shoulder. The cool night air from the window kissed your skin, but his warmth was a balm you hadn’t realized you’d been seeking. He pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, a fleeting gesture that could be mistaken for affection, followed by a soft chuckle that was as intoxicating as it was disarming.

Aegon was in good spirits tonight, or so it seemed. His presence was magnetic, his charm an irresistible force that pulled you into his orbit despite the undercurrent of dread that always lurked beneath the surface. You knew this tenderness, however sweet, was a precarious thing—a mask that could slip at any moment to reveal the tempest underneath. Yet you leaned into him, seeking solace in the closeness even as it threatened to unravel everything you held together so carefully.

But then, like a gust of wind extinguishing a flame, his smile faded, replaced by a frown that marred his angelic features. You didn’t need to see his face to feel the change, to sense the tension coiling in his body as if he were holding onto something fragile, something that could slip through his fingers and shatter beyond repair.

It was as though he was clutching at a dream, trying to hold onto a world that was slipping away from him. And you, too, were caught in that current, powerless to change the course of the storm that was surely coming. The weight of unspoken words, of a future that neither of you could control.

“You’re far away,” Aegon whispered, his voice barely breaking the stillness that had settled over the room like a heavy shroud.

Before he could say more, you gently took one of his hands, bringing it to your lips and pressing a tender kiss to his knuckles. His skin was warm, soft, since he strayed away from sword training. It felt weird, as though the chasm that had opened between you was something that could not be bridged by mere touch. “I’m tired,” you murmured, the exhaustion lacing your voice with a fragility that felt almost foreign to you. “It’s been a long day.”

Aegon’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze probing as he turned you around with an effortless grace that belied the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, his tone soft yet edged with something darker, an undercurrent of fear, perhaps. His hands lingered on your waist, grounding you, but also anchoring you to him and the chaos that comes with it.

A sad smile tugged at your lips. You searched for the right words, the right way to explain the gnawing dread that had taken root in your heart. It wasn’t your intention to hurt him, but how could you speak the truth without doing so? “I worry,” you confessed, each word heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. “I worry about everything. In fact, I think I often worry enough for the both of us.”

Your words hung in the air, a fragile admission that seemed to echo in the stillness of the chamber. The night was your sanctuary, the time when you could be together without the prying eyes of the Red Keep, even from the Gods, yet even this sacred space was not immune to the growing tension that lay between you. You felt the strain of it, pulling at the threads of your bond, threatening to unravel the delicate balance you had managed to maintain for so long.

Aegon’s expression darkened, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t quite grasp. His brow furrowed, as if he were trying to understand a riddle that had no answer, his grip on your waist tightening imperceptibly. “You worry too much,” he said finally, his voice barely masking the frustration that simmered just beneath the surface. “You worry about things that don’t matter, that will never matter”

But the conviction in his voice, once so reassuring, now felt hollow. You could hear the echo of doubts in your mind. How could you tell him that his recklessness, his disregard for the very things that weighed so heavily on your heart, was tearing you apart? How could you make him see that while he was content to drift through life, you were being dragged under by the currents of responsibility, duty, and the looming shadows of what was to come?

Aegon pulled you closer, his hands tight on your waist, but the embrace felt more like a cage than a comfort. “You’re living in a fantasy,” he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. “A fantasy of duty and responsibility that was never meant for us. We’re meant to live, to enjoy what we have, not to worry about what others expect… because we’re never going to be enough”

His words cut deeper than any blade could. Aegon’s indifference to his own fate, his refusal to see the consequences of his actions, was a stark reminder of how different the two of you truly were. He lived for the moment, for the fleeting pleasures that numbed the pain he refused to acknowledge. But you couldn’t escape the weight of the future, the crushing burden of knowing what was expected of you, of him.

“You can’t escape it,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “No matter how hard you try to pretend otherwise, it’s coming for us, Aegon”

“You’re always worrying,” Aegon muttered. “You’re starting to sound like my mother—always telling me what we should be, what we should do, as if we’re some perfect vision of duty.” He sighed deeply, rubbing a hand over his face. “Can you stop making everything so complicated?”

“I’m sorry—” you began, your voice trembling with the weight of your fears. “But I’m afraid, Aegon. It’s terrifying, this situation. Everything… don’t you realize?” You tilted your head, searching his face for any sign that he understood the turmoil that gnawed at your insides.

“We’re alright,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes in exasperation. “It’s you who’s making it difficult. You’re the one living in this fantasy—this fantasy of duty and faith, and everything being just— so we don’t repeat the mistakes of those before us. But it’s suffocating.”

You felt the tension coil tighter in your chest, the pressure building as if you were on the edge of a precipice. “Aegon, this isn’t just a fantasy. It’s our reality—our future. The mistakes of the past haunt us because they were real, because they had consequences. We can’t just ignore that.”

"Aegon—" you began, but before you could say another word, he silenced you with a sudden, fevered kiss. His lips crashed against yours with a force that spoke of desperation, the unmistakable taste of wine lingering on his breath. It was typical of him—this reckless need, this hunger that never seemed to be sated. His kiss was all-consuming, a fire that threatened to burn you from the inside out, and though you knew you should resist, his touch was woven so deeply into the fabric of your being that it felt impossible to pull away.

For a moment, you let yourself drown in him, in the way his hands moved up your waist to your back, seeking the laces of your sleep gown with a familiar urgency. But just as quickly, the sole thought of him lost in the arms of strangers, drowning in wine just the night before, flashed through your mind. The memory hit you like a cold wave, pulling you back to the surface of reality, and with a wrenching effort, you pushed him away.

Aegon stared at you, a frown creasing his brow, confusion mingling with the remnants of his frustration.

"Alicent—" you stammered, grasping for anything to say, your voice faltering under the weight of the lie. "She’ll be here early in the morrow," you continued, the words sounding hollow even to your own ears.

He knew it was a lie. You could see it in the way his eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger passing through them, but he said nothing. The silence between you stretched thin, taut with unspoken truths and the ever-widening distance that neither of you could bridge. His frustration, his anger—it wasn’t just at you. It was at everything, at the life he was trapped in, at the expectations that crushed him. But that anger, that resentment, was now directed squarely at you, the one person who had always been his refuge, and yet now felt like just another weight dragging him down.

And you felt your own heart ache with a sorrow that words couldn’t express. You loved him—Gods, how you loved him—but that love was starting to feel like a chain.

Aegon let out a chuckle, the sound tinged with a bitterness that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “That never worried you before,” he said, his tone almost mocking.

You held his gaze, your own resolve faltering under the weight of the truth you were about to speak. “Can you imagine what they’ll do to me if they ever find out about us?” you whispered, your voice trembling as you pressed a finger to your chest. “How shame and rage will rain upon me, Aegon?”

“That’s not going to happen,” he replied, his voice firm, dismissive, as if sheer will could bend the world to his desires.

But you shook your head. “There are bigger things than us, Aegon,” you said, your voice soft yet heavy with the burden of inevitability.

He rolled his eyes. “What could happen? My mother asking me to marry you?”

“That’s the best-case scenario,” you admitted, a fleeting hope lingering in your words. “But if she doesn’t want to marry my brother to Helaena, what makes you think she’ll marry me to you, the King’s firstborn son?”

“They’re bastards,” he spat out, a familiar venom in his words.

“—As much as I am,” you whispered back, the words cutting through the air like a blade. “This is going nowhere, Aegon,” you continued before he could respond, your voice filled with resignation.

And yet, despite everything, despite the certainty that this was all leading to ruin, you couldn’t let go. Not of him, not of the love that, for all its flaws and dangers, had become the very blood in your veins. But now, you couldn’t help but wonder if that love was worth the price you were bound to pay; since this affair was doomed from its beginnings.

Aegon’s expression morphed into something indecipherable, a mask of internal conflict as though he was waging a silent war with himself between the urge to remain and the compulsion to escape. His hesitation was palpable, yet ultimately he opted for departure, unwilling to incite another confrontation that would only drive a deeper wedge between you.

“Where are you going?” you demanded, your voice a cold lance piercing through the darkness, laced with fears.

“You clearly need to reconsider things,” he said, his voice firm and filled with resignation. “You’re entangled in this ideal of the perfect daughter, the flawless princess. We’re not going to get what we desire regardless”

“So you’ll leave me alone?” you asked, the weight of the words feeling like a burden on your tongue. And you couldn’t get angry at him for choosing to leave. It almost feels like you pushed him away.

Aegon’s silence was deafening, his only reply a weary exhale. He cast one final, fleeting glance over his shoulder, a look that seemed to carry an entire world of unresolved emotions and discontent. Then, without another word, he turned and slipped out of your chamber with the same quiet stealth as his arrival, leaving you alone with the heavy stillness of your room. The silence that followed was deafening.

You couldn’t imagine a life without him but the day will come — you’ll be betrothed and taken to some place you hate. And he will be betrothed too. That’s how destiny works for all of you.

The same destiny it’s the reason he opted to numb his running mind with wine and prostitutes… once more.

“Rūklun skoriot se bantis rāpa vūjigon tolvie rūklon,” Helaena voice echoes through the small garden. Her tone always dreamy and soft, like a haunting beautiful dream.

You can’t remember when was the first time you both laid on the soft grass; when was the first time she sang for you; when was the first time she entertained you with her bugs. Now her head is laid on your stomach, as she holds a small creature in her hand. Just admiring them, and you’re glad she’s your friend. She does have that capacity of looking beyond, of truly admiring other beings.

She leaves the small bug on the grass, as she continues her soft singing; “Pōnta ȳdragon isse rāpa tolīmorghon, gūrēñagon gīda isse se zōbrie,”

Helaena is equally glad for your friendship, as you understood her. As she felt cared for; she doesn’t feel like she’s the weird girl everyone claims her to be. For her own family doesn’t seem to care so much about her. You both hear tales and stories… whispers, rumors.

When Viserys and Alicent had welcomed their first son, a healthy, silver-haired heir, they had not anticipated the arrival of a second child so soon after Aegon. Though young and aware of her duty to provide the King with heirs to secure the bloodline, Alicent was overwhelmed. Yet, when her weary and anxious eyes met those of her newborn son, a profound sense of tranquility enveloped her. Aegon would grow to be the King’s heir to the throne but Maelor shall be hers. Forever.

Then came the only girl, and the rest… All but one raised in the most hostile ambient a child can grow.

But she had endured, alway pushed aside. Just a princess, whose fate was to get married to some Lord and be exiled away from home. “Jēda, iā lyka dīnagon, pālegīon pōja jaedos ezīmagon iōrves,” She continued with her soft and haunting voice.

Unease began to creep from the pit of your stomach. Helaena’s singing, usually a balm for worries and terrors, now seemed powerless against this overwhelming dread; this was something you feared nothing could shake away.

Strange days were merely the beginning. They would haunt your sleep, echoing in the dark with the lullabies of Targaryens ghosts.

“You’re such a fool—“ A hushed and forced through teeth phrase came out of Helaena’s grandsire; Otto Hightower.

In an instant, your head whipped around, and Helaena sat up. You didn’t need to see to know what the commotion was about—Otto was dragging Aegon toward his chambers, his grip firm and unforgiving. The sight made your stomach churn with fear, casting a shadow over your thoughts. The King’s alleged heir had a way of making your skin crawl. You haven’t seen him in a couple of days after your fight.

She gazed at you, her lips parting only to release the haunting melody: “Pōja istin jehikagrī ēnka sir rāpūltan, isse iā rāpa, lyka nārhēdegon” (Their once bright hues now softened, in a tender, quiet loss).

Soon, the groans and heavy footsteps melded with the birds’ chirping and the distant murmur of voices from the hallways. Yet, the garden remained an isolated enclave, housing only Helaena’s ethereal song and your tumultuous thoughts. A palpable silence descended, compelling you to whip your head toward her.

Alicent’s only daughter was already regarding you with eyes brimming with worry and regret. It was uncommon for her to look at you this way, and the intensity of her gaze sent a shiver down your spine.

“Sealing the bond,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “One will drift away, the other will be chasing phantoms for an eternity” The innocence of her phrase was a dagger to your gut, making you want to retch, as you tasted bile on your tongue. Desperation clawed at you, and you fled, seeking refuge in the only place that could never offer you peace.

The room reeked of stale alcohol and sweat; a reminder of the first and last time you visited an inn. The once repugnant scent was now a grim familiarity. Each morning you arrived early, loyal as a hound and pristine as a dove. But not this morning; delicate petals from the garden were still tangled in your hair. You smell like fresh cut grass. And you’re late.

Aegon lay sprawled on his bed, utterly naked and feigning sleep. He was waiting, because even if he played the role of an idiot, a part of him still cared.

You swallowed hard, “Aegon?” Your voice trembled, a fragile thread of hesitation woven through it. Fear of him was not the issue; it was the looming dread, the haunting sense of something profoundly wrong, lurking just beyond the edges of your understanding.

The mere sight of him being humiliated by any member of his family or by himself was something you’ve become to accept, to make peace with. Aegon hasn’t been on a leash since he was a kid; since his father proclaimed Rhaenyra as his legitimate heir. And so he decided to indulge in the pleasure of the flesh… and alcohol — a sweet but ultimately lethal form of enjoyment. And the fact that he has harbored feelings for you doesn’t even move him into change. Not because of you, but for him. He deserves to be respected and the honor of a house such as the Targaryen. Though, he’s not even respected by his own kin. By his own parents. Viserys was old, probably had an ounce of love for him which burned when he had realized he didn’t need more children to secure the bloodline. His firstborn was still very much alive; even if he was a woman. And Alicent only cherished his twin brother.

Aegon often wondered what it would be like to be the one born looking like a Hightower—instead of being a living reminder to his mother of the sacrifices she had to make, of her stolen childhood, and of every unavenged wound. Would he then be wanted as much as Maelor is? Deep down, he knew it was a futile dream. He tried not to care, but the fear of being crushed under the weight of everyone’s expectations gnawed at him incessantly.

After all, Maelor, has much more of a tender temperament and Aemond’s intellect and wit, which seemed to embody everything Aegon was not. His eyes were a warm, inviting brown, complementing his auburn hair—a perfect reflection of Alicent. He looked human, soft, approachable, and kind. In Aegon’s eyes, Maelor was the epitome of what Alicent desired, a role Aegon could never fulfill.

You dusted off your pale dress, swallowing down your rising frustration and anger. It wasn’t in your nature to be quick to anger, to point the finger, to blame others for their mistakes. But today, his actions felt unbearable. “Do—Do you even care?” Your voice sounded pathetic, a desperate plea for recognition, affection — just to be seen by yout lover.

He didn’t bother opening his eyes. Everything was too bright, too loud for his liking, especially after Otto Hightower’s sermonizing. “Uhm—? Ah, oh,” He yawned, shifting to make himself more comfortable in bed. “Yes, sure.”

His indifference sparked a surge of anger within you, the bile rising to tinge your throat with its bitter taste. “I’m being serious.”

“Don’t speak so loud…” He groaned, dismissive. But he was the one who sought comfort in your arms the last time you saw each other. “You should go, I don’t want any of your services”

It makes your blood seethe, each word from him striking like arrows piercing through your heart. The indignity of being called a whore stings with a venomous edge.

It was always a struggle to engage in conversation with him when he was saturated with the remnants of last night’s excesses. But today felt especially grueling; your patience is unraveling, eroded by the relentless tide of his cruelty.

You approached his bed, standing close enough to block the sunlight that accentuated his handsome features. You wanted to scream, to hit him, hoping that maybe then he would love you, maybe then he would strive to be better and meet your expectations. But Aegon wasn’t a fool; he knew you were the only one who forgave him every single time, without him even trying. Gathering all your courage, you spoke the words that had been festering within you: “You’re pathetic.”

So you think that too? He knew everything couldn’t be perfect. Aegon understood he was doomed, marked by fate’s cruel design. He knows this truth intimately… yet, despite everything, he clings to hope with a desperation that borders on madness. Because you’re the only one seeing him with different and softer eyes.

He can’t think because his mind is flooded with guilt, of everything that happened last night… Of everything he’s ever done to you, whether good or bad. “Go pester Maelor, he looks just like me. I’m sure he can entertain you… Maybe he won’t pleasure you as well as I do. But after all, all whores are the same, I’m sure he won’t mind”

Tears gathered at the corner of your eyes. His cruelty cuts deep, making you question if any of it is worth it—the sacrifices, the hurt, the strange looks, and your bleeding heart. Are they worth the fleeting moments of bliss? He’s capable of loving, and being kind — he has shown you that. Sometimes you like to fool yourself thinking that he actually cares about you, that maybe he thinks you’re more than just a pawn following everything he says… More than just a girl staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Thinking maybe, just maybe… he actually sees you.

But it’s the indifference, and his insolent words that creates a wall. One you’re too tired to try and bring it down.

You snort, deciding to play his game, ethough you know it will keep destroying everything. “Maybe I will, Aegon. Maelor has more honor in his little finger than you’ll ever have. You just wallow in your own filth.”

You speak with distaste, the words hurting you as much as they hurt him, because they come from a place of anger, a vengeful side you despise. It makes you want to throw up; the mere idea to succumb into your rage.

You turned around, unable to bear looking at him. If you meet his eyes, you’ll collapse under the weight of your own emotions and beg for forgiveness, even though it’s not your fault. You just wanted to make amends. “Do you know you’re throwing everything away, Aegon?” you ask, your voice trembling with the weight of despair. You don’t expect an answer. He already knows.

“I’ve been on my knees, begging for some kind of forgiveness from the Gods, for even the slightest hint of their consideration,” you whispered, your voice trembling under the weight of raw, unrestrained anguish. “Yet you persist in pushing me away. I’m on the brink, exhausted, uncertain if I have anything left to offer. I’ve sacrificed so much, endured countless trials for you, and now you cast me aside as if I were nothing.”

Each word was a dagger, cutting through the fragile silence with a bitter clarity. The raw pain in your voice seemed to resonate through the cold stone walls, echoing the deep fissures in your heart.

Unable to sustain the crushing burden of your sorrow, you turned abruptly and fled the room, covering your face and red rimmed eyes with your hands. The guards who opened the gates offered no solace, their stony expressions betraying no empathy. The heavy silence of the Red Keep was a stark contrast to the turmoil within you. You knew Aegon’s chambers were a sanctuary at this hour, shielded from the prying eyes of the court, save for the ever-watchful presence of Alicent.

“Princess,” a voice cut through your despair. You halted abruptly, your heart sinking as you recognized the only Hightower-looking son of Alicent. His eyes were filled with a mixture of curiosity and pity — not like he cared about you.

“Alicent is looking for you,” he said, his tone imbued with a sense of quiet urgency.

You lowered your hands, exposing your tear-stained face. The pain was a palpable force, constricting your throat and making it difficult to speak.

“Did Aegon do something to you?” he asked, his concern etched into every word, but the shy smirk betrayed him — not that you would catch it.

“No—no,” you choked out, shaking your head as if to dispel the crushing weight of your emotions. “I’m just—” The words faltered, it was not only pointless but dangerous to explain. “Where’s Alicent?”

— next chapter

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen twin #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen angst #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen au #tom glynn-caney’s #gaius julius caesar

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