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jinx-on-mars-19xx · 2 years ago

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Strawberries and Cinnamon Toast

🖤 All Previous Parts Here 🖤

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: ABO/Omegaverse dynamics (knots, slick, vaguely confusing reproductive explanations), mpreg, breastfeeding, mentions of lactation kink, cuddles, mentions of sex, baby's first feed, literally just fluff, teasing, and needy boys waiting for naps, Auntie T's help, messy babies, messy boys, teasing, happy boys, boys in love 🖤 Rating: mature I think (smut to come I swear)

After the doctor left Col just watched his family, his gaze drifting between the little alpha and the even smaller omega. His children were fucking bite-sized balls of precious and he was pretty sure he wasn't even breathing he was so full of love for his pack. It was almost scary how much of a carbon copy they were and maybe that was some protection thing to keep them safe and it would change as they got older, he didn't know. He had heard about pups looking like their fathers so their lizard brain would be more protective but how could anyone not want to love their little ones and keep them safe? The boy was loud as he suckled for the first time, he knew the doctor had cleaned out his brand new airways but he still sounded stuffy and Colson fought not to laugh. He had a feeling that was sound they'd have to grow accustomed to, the kiddo was just eating so fast.

"Takes after you." Dom hummed, his voice softer than he thought it had ever been. He felt something like true peace for the first time in his life. Not that his mate didn't make him feel calm but this was… different. He didn't know if it was the babes, his future husband, or the remnants of magic from that alpha voice. Maybe it was just the flood of happy love chemicals in his brain but whatever it was he felt quiet. He felt soothed. He felt so much love his heart hurt like it would spill over. He couldn't help but tease about their son, he literally made the exact same noises as his eager father, just the baby version.

"Like she doesn't take after you." The man joked back, leaning close to scent her so small head. He didn't want to bother them but they seemed focused enough and he needed to scent his family. He had to. His breath huffed out over her skin, blowing her smell back against him and he fought tears when a fresh gentle strawberries and cream perfume hit his senses. There was still the dusky cling from living inside his mate, the sweet addition of milk and Dom's spit, and the sharp tang of blood but under it all was her and he wondered if that would change as she grew up. He wasn't trying to picture her right now though, he just wanted to savor the moment, not imagine all the assholes he'd have to fight off from her in the future.

"Boy smells like bread." The punk hummed softly, his eyes tracking every small movement. The tot kept palming a handful of his tit and he couldn't help but wince at the sharp nails in his skin but it was adorable. Absolutely twinning with his father far more than his actual twin.

"Bread?" Kells was almost incredulous but he chuckled under his breath. He didn't want to bend over everyone to sniff the boy, he was scared if he moved he might break the peace but bread? Alpha's don't smell like bread.

"Mmm cinnamon toastie. You got it too. Under all the sex and pot and shite." Dom smiled at his lover, it reminded him of the first night they met, that moment he'd stood close and gotten annoyed that even the rapper's BO was perfect. Gunpowder, leather, and musk. It had taken him a while to figure out the comforting notes under everything else but it was cinnamon, like a tall spiced hot chocolate. Sensual and warm. "Don't worry I'm sure one day ya pup'll be a scary badass but right now…" He trailed off, wishing he could bite the tiny fingers grabbing him. "Daddy-"

Colson bit his cheek not to smile at the sniffles in his baby momma's voice. The bitch was probably swimming in oxytocin and legit he was almost crying himself over how tiny they were. "It's alright baby. It's okay. I know." He soothed, pressing a kiss to his mate's sweaty temple. He swore he could taste the bonding hormones on his skin. He was desperate to taste more and he had promises to keep but… not just yet. He was allowed to bask. "Let me know if you start to hurt."

"Don't matter. Stay?"

That word brought back memories, made their whole relationship rush through his mind. He thought about the day he found out, the morning he got here, the moment he ran, the fear he'd felt when he thought he'd hurt them if he didn't leave. How was there ever a moment he thought he could walk away from this? He couldn't imagine it when those small mirror crimson eyes caught his. He knew that would fade as the hours passed, they'd settle into their own color. "Get your momma's eyes, they're prettier." He sighed offhandedly, a little prayer for the universe. He wanted mini-Doms, he didn't need anyone looking like him to keep him head over heels in love. Why the fuck did evolution think that was needed? He'd rather see a hundred tiny Yungbluds.

"You shut your whore mouf, be whatever you gonna be baby." That did make the alpha laugh, his lover was definitely high on love and post pain adrenaline crash.

The little prince must have overfilled his belly too fast because suddenly he was spilling his first meal everywhere and spitting up on his mother's chest. "Well that's what he thinks of that. Agrees with daddy hmm? I know your mom is prettier too. Wasteful little brat."

"Cols! Be nice and bloody 'elp! I can't move." The omega whined and the wanker carefully rushed to help, rolling off the bed and heading for the door to go get some of their things but the moment he got it open Tom was right fucking there, vibrating and holding a box of things they needed. He took a deep breath and cupped a hand over his cock but they all knew the poor beta had seen everything a few times over by now. Dom didn't even waste the energy. He was surprised that the new presence didn't piss off his hindbrain, they'd been saying the man was part of their pack but he didn't realize how true it was until no part of him wanted to growl. "Let 'im in and shut the fucking door, you letting all the stank out."

Colson shook his head and stepped back, letting the photographer inside before he sealed the room again. "I see someone is feeling lovely." The new uncle joked but he was being so careful. Kells took the box and found wipes and a spit rag, hopping back on the bed to clean up his family.

"Sit bitch. Meet the spawn and help." Col huffed, tossing a cloth over the man's shoulder before he scooped up the baby alpha and passed him over. He was incredibly glad he'd helped so much when Ashton was this small, he wasn't nervous holding his kids. The beta was though, he froze up, his almost gray eyes wide.

"Oh, hello little boy."

"Hey, don't call him little. He'll grow. Just like his daddy." The rapper teased and Dom rolled his eyes.

"You know he meant all over, don't be a jerk." The omega huffed, watching and shivering as his mate cleaned up his chest. He was starting to feel again and getting progressively needier but they could wait until the little ones were sleeping. He knew they could. Right? He watched his brother so carefully handling the boy, laying him over his shoulder and patting gently at his back.

"So you let me hold him for the mess? Why am I not surprised? Always cleaning up after you." Tom joked, watching his best friend with his new daughter. He'd never seen the punk so… still in all the years they knew each other. Even his mind felt calm. He couldn't believe how beautiful the new humans were but he should have expected it, what else could those cocky bastards make? He heard a tiny burp next to his ear and grinned, easing him down to cradle in his arm. "You're right, he takes after you."

Kells knew he was being ragged on but he didn't mind, Tom was family and the alpha was so fucking happy. "Diapers probably. Now that seems like a really good idea." He sighed, pulling a couple out. Dom whined, he wanted to keep full skin contact forever but- "Babe c'mon, I know you're not into that shit."

The combination of a scoff and a snort that the singer let out was adorable but the wince after had him worried, the pain was coming back and they would need each other very soon. The punk shook his head though, not yet. Damnit. He could be a good boy, he supposed it was something he'd have to learn anyway. He had a feeling their children would love interrupting. "There's still cake if you want but you should really eat real food first." Auntie T offered as he laid the baby down and attempted to figure out the diaper. He'd helped Dom with wilder outfits, he could bloody well strap the little boy in.

"Not 'ungry yet but fanks. I'm sure it's great."

"Oh, you're not hungry bitch?" Col purred but before he could continue the newcomer huffed.

"No! Absolutely not. Let me enjoy a moment of this first you horny insane fucks. Who even- you just had twins!" Tom was flabbergasted but not exactly shocked. He refused to leave yet though.

"Chill, we're waiting for nap time. Besides, it's good for him." The alpha laughed, laying a cloth over Dom's chest so he could help their daughter next. She ate a lot more daintily, slowly, but her belly was obviously full and she was starting to drool milk over her mother's chest while passing out. "Definitely yours. Spitting fucking image holy shit." He chuckled, hating just a little how much they were wasting. The scent of spilled milk made him hungry and he hoped there was a little left for when they finally got a moment together. He could wait. He actually liked having his little pack together.

"They're perfect Dom. You did… so good." Tommy sniffled, his gaze locking on his friends. The pair may be True Mates but he'd always felt the ADHD riddled brat was his platonic soulmate, he wouldn't fuck him if he were paid for it, the boy was too much for something like that but they were meant to be family and he knew they needed each other. He might joke but he was never leaving them, this was his family and he was so proud of him.

Dom reached out, gripping his brother's hand and squeezing, of course the fucker made him cry again but at least he was too. "Fank you. See Cols? All me."

"Oh for fucks sake. At least give me the boy, I'll put a diaper on him you inept b-"

"No, I've got it. Fuck off." He huffed back, it was a challenge now, he would get the baby ready.

Colson just arched a brow and leaned back to watch them. He knew in a moment he'd need to help put one on his daughter, Dom was still shaking too much and way too tired. He'd probably time himself and compare just to bug the beta but it was all in fun. Before long his children would rest and he'd give his mate exactly what he needed, what they both needed, and they'd bond and bask and hopefully rest before the little ones woke again. They'd been waiting for months for this, their lives as parents had finally started and everything felt so fucking good. He couldn't help wondering what was next, another heat or them getting married but no matter what they were truly in it now and he couldn't be happier. Everything was perfect.

Author's Note/Tags: @manicpixiedreamb0y @jaxbreaker @hollywoodxwhore @cole-way-iero28 @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker if anyone else wants tagged let me know! Sorry no smut yet, I was tired today and I just wanted to let them cuddle a little. Hope you still enjoyed 🖤

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ge · 1 year ago

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the day we get a 50k word tang bo lives/reincarnates identity reveal fluff/angst w a happy ending tangchung fic will be the day i allow myself to pass away w a smile on my face

#i wuld write if i culd brah..the pain of no interesting tangchung fics is killing me #this isnt to undermine the talents of the authors who have already written tangchung fics but none of them have #truly scratched my brain itch yet… i have sooooo many ideas for fics but nooo talent to see them through

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btgalaxy · 5 years ago

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Twisted - Yoongi mafia!au

➳ pairing: yoongi x reader

➳ genre: mafia!au, angst, eventual smut, maybe fluff

➳ word count: 3.5k

Masterlist / Next Chapter

Chapter 1

“I think we should break up.” And there it was. The words that send your life shattering into a thousand pieces strewn carelessly through the crisp Seoul air; disregarded as blankets of dust on an old mantlepiece. Your breath hitches in your throat, your lips part slightly, the tears sting at your eyes.

“Break up?” You stutter out in disbelief. It’s been nothing but smiles and affection these past few weeks, nothing even hinted at the forthcoming events. Jimin’s always been an angel; the perfect boyfriend. Meeting you after work, taking you out to dinner and doting on you constantly in search of your teeth-y smile you thought he loved.

��I’m sorry, Y/N,” he scrunches his nose up awkwardly, “I just don’t think this is working out.” You stand there, still stammering to find the right words to say, holding each of your biceps crossing your arms across your chest; the shield from the sharp breeze biting at you.

“But, I-,” you pause, taking a breath to try and refrain the tears from spilling down your cheeks, “I don’t understand what went wrong.” Jimin’s eyes flicker to the floor and he takes his lower lip between his teeth, uncomfortably avoiding your gaze trying to savour every last inch of him.

“I just- I’ve changed, we’ve changed,” he murmurs, “I just think it’s the right thing to do.” The fury in your stomach ripples through you and the fire burns within your eyes as you suddenly feel a lot braver.

“The right thing to do?” You spit, “how in hell’s name is this the right thing to do?” Your tone drips with venom as you struggle to contain the building rage now filling the hole Jimin has left inside of you.

“Y/N, it’s for the best, you don’t know the full story,” Jimin sighs, and you purse your lips and let out a malicious laugh.

“Enlighten me then, please,” you order, allowing a single tear to slip through your façade against your will amidst your furious haze.

“It’s not that simple,” he insists, and you let out another laugh in disbelief.

“Of course it isn’t,” you take a breath and pause for a minute, “you know what, whatever, fuck you Jimin. Fuck. You.” With that, you spin on your heel and make a final break away from the amber light of the streetlamp sheathing you in a cold glow. You hear Jimin call your name a few times, but make your choice to ignore him; after all, he’d only want to explain himself further which isn’t something you’re in the mood for hearing.

Turning the corner out of your now ex-boyfriend’s sight, you let the tears spill freely from your eyes, now careless to anyone that sees. What an arse. You briefly allow your thoughts to stray to a time where Jimin seemed hopelessly, irrevocably in love with you, like a pair of naïve teenagers consumed only by the dream of staying in one another’s arms eternally. But perhaps that is all you were; naïve. Too gullible and starry-eyed to see past the duplicitous veneer that Jimin adopted around you. Or maybe you’re just overthinking this and he has genuinely changed and doesn’t love you any longer. Either way it hurts. God, it hurts like hell.

You continue to shuffle your feet along the path with a miserable effort, only incited by the glacial wind nipping through the meagre fabric of your work shirt encouraging you to find your way home. You push up the sleeve of the material to take a glance at your watch, informing you it’s nearing the early hours of the morning now, but this barely acts as an incentive to call a taxi or stop at a friend’s nearby. Jimin was your usual drive home after work, waiting in the car park every evening with the heating on full blast so you’d warm up quickly when you were all finished. That and it was the fastest way to get you out of your clothes.

As you follow round yet another corner- you aren’t even entirely sure where you are at this point- you become patently aware of a second presence in the dead of this bitter night, lingering amongst the void streets of Seoul. You can hear the footsteps behind you, but you daren’t glance back, in fear of seeing something you shouldn’t. You’ve always been a firm believer that if you can’t see it, it can’t see you. You learn that isn’t always the case the hard way.

The footfalls increase in pace, and you match the increase promptly, heading towards the sound of a main road with abrupt speed to find safety in the public sphere. But you aren’t greeted with such luck.

A hand snakes around your neck to conceal your screams, while you breathe in the fumes emanated from the filthy cloth in your attacker’s hand, pressed against your face while your arms and legs slowly give in from their thrashing about till you’re lax against the unknown body.

There are moments where you drift in and out of consciousness, your head pulsating against a steel wall as your body rocks to the hum of the vehicle. There are no windows, nowhere to see where you are. Your hands are bound in your lap, as are your feet laid out in front of you. You can’t fight the drugs anymore, however, as you fall back into a drug-induced slumber.

“Wake up,” a gruff voice rumbles from above, splintering through your head and creating a fatal throb course through your brain. You groan and squeeze your eyes shut, battling a potent inertia that sweeps over you as you squint against the artificial light pouring through the back doors of a van that you’re in. At least now it’s clear you’re in a van.

As your pupils adjust to the incessant pour of torchlight it becomes apparent you’re surrounded by three or four men of large stature, all looming over you like an ominous presence. You quickly feel yourself gaining strength as a wave of adrenaline pumps through your veins and grates against your fingertips to fight against your abductors, but you relegate the urge to jerk away from them as fast as your limbs will allow, instead now conscious enough to decide to wait for the right time.

The man who spoke suddenly grabs you by the legs and drags you to the doors of the van, pulling at the knot binding your feet till you’re free from your chains. He then takes you by the arm with a grunt and pulls you to stand up, where you can fully cognize your surroundings.

What kind of fucked up people are these? The only thing you can see is a lone battered shack with darkened, rotting planks forming the foundations which seem to wither out into nothingness that unnerves you to the core. It definitely does not look safe, yet it seems to be the place your captors are dragging you towards with a sudden haste.

“Move faster.” A hand slams against your back as you stumble forwards, tripping over your feet as your bound hands grate against the mud below, wetting your jeans and splattering up your face. You begin to cough and spit as a piece of mud slips onto your lips, but a man disrupts you when he hoists you up by the collar of your shirt and drags you away, towards the entrance of the hut.

“Boss won’t be happy she’s all dirty.”

“Boss doesn’t care what state she’s in, as long as we bring her to him.” Two voices gruff out from behind you, while another yanks you through the door into a filthy kitchen, clearly inhabited by all sorts of rodents gesticulated by the bitten off wallpaper and foul smell that lingers in the air. You immediately go to retreat back, but you’re stopped by another firmness manhandling your waist as you’re forced forwards to follow into the next room.

Suddenly, some sort of shelving unit is pushed aside, wherein a steel staircase is revealed, and a whole riot of noise envelopes the little shack.

“Quick,” the leader grunts, taking you by the arm as the group of you hurdle in and the doorway is slid back across. As much as you hate to admit it, the notion of abducting someone and taking them underground in some barren field is rather intelligent, overused perhaps but nonetheless a smart way of capturing someone. Not that that’s a good thing, in your current situation.

Darkness consumes the stairway once the shelves have closed back behind you, so the men hurry you down the steps towards the incessant chorus of voices that echo at the bottom, where an artificial light floods the space with a disciplined glare that reflects against the stone floor. When you’re finally shoved through an archway, however, the network of tunnels becomes much more vibrant with the people mulling about, acting normal enough that you’re momentarily convinced that everything is fine. But the moment is fleeting, and, as a last grapple for your freedom, you twirl on your feet trying to yank at the chains on your hands. With no luck, before the men have a chance to start yelling, you let your feet guide you frantically away, back towards the louring staircase to race for your life, but a hand is immediately brought over your face to muffle your screaming and protests. And instantly you clamp your teeth down over the man’s flesh, inducing a metallic tang to nip at your tongue and sink through your incisors.

“Bitch!” The man howls out in pain, cradling his hand to his chest, but before you can take advantage of his transitory weakness another dark-haired male is already stood in front of you, looking rather amused.

“Good effort, duckie,” he grins, sauntering forwards to place a hand on your shoulder which you smack away, “I think someone wants to meet you.”

“Who the fuck are you?” You snarl, swallowing back any anxiety that could otherwise consume you.

He smiles, pissing you off even further, “come along, then. Boss has already been kept waiting.”

He grabs you again, much more forcefully this time, swinging you around and directing you towards a new passage with only a single door at the end, welcoming you rather sinisterly. He nudges at your back causing you to stumble and move a little faster, the entrance becoming even more daunting the closer you get.

The man raps his fist against the steel a couple of times, “Boss. She’s here.”

A grunt from the other side is apparently cue enough for you to barge your way in, his strength unrelenting on your back between your shoulder blades.

Inside, the walls are a similar stone, as is the flooring, but the space is occupied only by a desk, central. There’s a window to the left, overlooking a deeper cavern of which is filled with mostly men, either training at one side or eating at another, benches of them all conversing rowdily. Leaning against the glass, watching them keenly, stands a blonde-haired black suit, scanning his eyes repetitively over the scene unrolling before him- two men fighting like savages as they swipe and claw at one another, desperately tussling for a weakness of the other. The blonde watching smiles sadistically.

“Ouch,” he remarks, admiring how one man is slammed against the rock ground and knocked unconscious with a slick bang to the head. What a monster.

“We got her, Boss.” You’d nearly forgotten about the dark hair behind you, “thought she’d come without a struggle, but ended up taking a chunk out of Kook’s hand.” He laughs, pushing you forwards again. “You need me to stay, or?”

“That’ll be all, Taehyung,” this ‘Boss’ orders, finally turning to look you over, dragging his gaze carelessly from the muddied trainers on your feet to the traces of blood that have crusted around your mouth.

“Bye, duckie,” Taehyung calls, leaving promptly, but you daren’t take your eyes off the blonde ahead of you. The Boss moves over to his desk, pulling open one of the drawers to bring out a tissue and then moving towards you. When he reaches out to wipe your face, however, you retreat back rapidly, but turn to find Taehyung has shut the door firmly behind him. You stop.

“There’s no point trying to get out of here. The Enterprise is practically ineluctable; especially in your shape. You haven’t a chance,” he chuckles.

You spin around hastily, “Enterprise?” You spit.

“Come sit, Y/N.”

“How the fuck do you know my name?” Your hand flings out towards him accusingly, but suddenly he has a hold on your wrist and yanks you to collide with the chair situated on the outer side of his desk, nonchalantly moving to the other side to take a seat himself.

For a second you’re disoriented, clutching onto the armrests encasing you to the seat, but you loosen them as he pulls out some sort of file from another of the drawers, suddenly more interested as he presents a collection of photos to you; a collection of you and Jimin.

“What is this?” You murmur, thumbing the edge of one of the pictures. The blonde leans back in his seat, intertwining his hands over his lap.

“My name is Yoongi. I’m head of this institute-“

“Institute? You make abducting me sound legal,” you growl.

“You’d be surprised how much illegality you’ve been involved in for a while now,” he reveals, instantaneously capturing your full attention, “tell me, Y/N, what is it your boyfriend does for a job?” He leans forwards again in his chair, resting his elbows on the surface of the desk.

You swallow, “he runs a company.” But you’re no longer sure of your words, not after the way Yoongi just battered your confidence.

He hums, nodding, “I don’t think you know him as well as you may believe, Miss Y/L/N.”

“What are you talking about? Will you stop being so fucking vague and give me some actual answers.” Your tone exudes a lethal poison that seeps off your tongue with fervent animosity.

“Then I’ll get straight to it,” he smirks, “your boyfriend runs a- a sort of company. He runs the only other rival gang within approximately 150 miles from here- and he’s therefore the only thing posing a threat to my authority. A threat that needs to be eliminated.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. Jimin? Some kind of mafia boss? You refuse to believe a word out of Yoongi’s mouth. How could Jimin- of all people- be a criminal? Jimin was always kind; he picked you up from work, he held you till you fell asleep at night and kissed you when you felt miserable. He was certainly no saint, but he was never a master of vice. Although, come to think of it, he did have a habit of leaving quite promptly during dates sometimes, or maybe coming home a little bruised and battered. But he told you he liked to play rugby in his spare time, just to stay in shape. He told you it was fine, it was safe.

“So I assume you’re wondering why we brought you here, yes?”

“Something like that,” you mumble, attempting to divert your eyes away from the evocative images laid on the desk, haunting you with fond memories of Jimin.

“Well we’ve recently encountered a few… problems. Some deliveries of ours are being continuously intercepted; I’ve lost billions. And I can’t afford to lose anymore. So your little boyfriend is at the heart of the mess, and after the research I’ve had one of our undercovers discover I’m-“

“You’re trying to hold me as ransom?”

“We don’t want money from him. I can earn back what I’ve lost in just a matter of days. No, what I want is a treaty that vows he will never trouble me again. No more interceptions, no more surprise attacks, no more random slaughterings of my best men.”

“Slaughtering?”

“Your boyfriend’s a killer, love. Didn’t you know?” The sarcasm laced in his tonality makes your fists clench, a mechanism to prevent the tears spilling from your eyes otherwise. Jimin is not a killer.

“I don’t believe you.”

“You don’t?” He reaches slowly towards the drawer again, provokingly, “I do have some rather vivid images of the harm he’s caused to my men if you’d like-“

“No!” You throw your arm across the desk rapidly to stop him, knowing full well you couldn’t stomach seeing something so gruesome. He recoils his arm with a smug smile, enjoying your discomfort.

“So you do believe me then?”

“Why the fuck are you even telling me all this? Are you dumb?” His eyes darken at your accusation, “isn’t it wiser to just throw me in a cell? Torture me? Send Jimin the pictures? Your spy can’t even be that good, anyway. We broke up tonight.”

Yoongi’s stare hardens and he swallows loudly, tightening his grip on the sides of his chair, “what did you just say?”

You laugh emptily, “he broke up with me tonight. Right before your little posse of oafs decided to drug me and throw me in a van. I’m no use to you.”

He unexpectedly relaxes in his chair, exhaling, “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. An extra body is always helpful.”

“Body?” You gulp, demeanour quickly changing at the word.

“Calm down, love. I won’t be killing you just yet. I think there’s more to this than I’m aware of.” He’s quick to call Taehyung back in, sliding the pictures splayed out on the desk into a pile and hastily placing them back in his drawer. Taehyung comes bundling in shortly later, clearly caught off guard.

“Taehyung,” Yoongi demands, “take Y/N to the prepared room. She will stay there until further notice.”

You intrude, “I’m not staying here.”

“Of course, Boss,” Taehyung ignores your comment, picking you up from the chair by your bicep and clinging to your thin shirt.

“Wait,” you struggle out of Taehyung’s grip, turning back to Yoongi on your heel who is now already preoccupied with his phone, “you never told me what the Enterprise is? Or what you do exactly? Or what you plan on doing with me here?” Your questions are endless, to which Yoongi only irritably rolls his eyes, planting his hands on the keyboard of the computer and looking at you with an infuriated glint emanated from the orbs scrutinizing your faltering stance.

“This is the Enterprise. Your new home,” he squints with a smile, sarcastically, gesturing out to the office and out of the window, “you don’t need to worry about my business, and I don’t know what I’m going to do with you yet. If you prove to be more hassle than you’re worth, I won’t hesitate to have you killed. Clear?” His scolding resembles that of a teacher, perhaps a little more intense, but it enrages you to the core.

You pause for a second, before retorting, “crystal.” Then, no longer needing Taehyung to push you out, you take yourself from the office and back into the system of tunnels you’re trapped in.

Taehyung quickly escorts you through the underground stone halls, in which you pass many a nonchalant man, all with some sort of scratch or bruise visible somewhere on their body. It sickens you that you’re surrounded by all these criminals, posing as some kind of army simply training like it’s normal. Like they aren’t going to go and kill innocent people. Like what they’re doing is fighting for good. As if.

You eventually reach another door, more closed off and secluded from the rest of the institute. You’re very aware, however, of the sturdy-looking padlock hooked onto the front handle. You glance at it, and then at Taehyung, who merely shrugs with a smile at the implication before opening up the entrance and ushering you inside. The lights flicker on, revealing something that resembles a hotel room. Not entirely what you expected, with a carpeted floor and double bed- a bathroom off to the left.

“There’s some clothes in the wardrobe,” Taehyung peers at the wooden cabinet next to the bed, “it’s one of our better rooms. You’re lucky Yoongi didn’t have you stay in the hole with all the scumbags not even worthy of death.” His expression darkens transitorily, but is then veiled by his retreating figure back to the doorframe, smiling at you one last time.

“Welcome to the Enterprise, duckie.” And the door slams shut.

Masterlist / Next Chapter

#twisted #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts suga #yoongi smut #bts mafia au #bts angst #bts fluff #admin lottie

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anniebotao3 · 2 years ago

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Evening Light

Published 17 November 2021 | T-rated | 1478 words | Oneshot

Tags: Tang San (Soul Land Series)/Wei Yi Chen (My Strange Friend); Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan adjascent; Tang San (Soul Land Series); Wei Yichen; Wang Yi Bo/Xiao Zhan | Sean Character Combinations; Crossover Pairings; Alternate Universe - Modern Setting; Alternate Universe - No Powers; Grey Asexual Wei Yixhen (My Strange Friend); Established Relationship; Domestic Fluff; Communicating Desire; zswwlsfyyizhanmultiverse: day 6; Implied/Referenced Sex

Wei Yichen can’t say he’s been a good teacher, but Tang San takes to wood carving immediately. He quietly takes over ownership of Yichen’s tools, and stays outside for hours in the yard whittling away at a secret project. When Tang San presents the figurines to Wei Yichen, a wrapped up housewarming gift for the both of them, it’s clear they are little simulacrums of the two of them. OR: A look into the modern day life of Wei Yichen and Tang San on one golden evening.

#fanfiction #anniepromotes #anniewrites #ao3 fanfic #crossover pairing #Yizhanverse #yizhanmultiverse #Wei Yichen #Tang San #Sanchen

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gojosatoruwifey · 10 months ago

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ㅡdreaming torrents

✑ the what ifs random snippets postwar rotmhs that no one asked for (◕∇◕✿)

✿ warning/s: fluff , g/n! reader , swearing, tell me if i missed something!

✿ character/s: pbss! chung myung , junior! reader (feat. small baek cheon)

part of the senior reader agenda (tba)

thumb ring

sleepiness seems to overlap either day or night. the issue used to not bother him but now that being groggy is catching up to his body, chung myung finds it hard to stifle a yawn. bed hair of ink black falls to his shoulders, white robes thrown in haphazardly as if he’s not bothered by the incoming scolding from his tidied junior later in the dining hall he will be meeting for breakfast, drowse clung to his eyes, hand busy itself to close the door of the room.

“sahyung,” a voice called out from the side.

chung myung glanced to see a cultivator disciple in black, a carefully embroidered tassel hanging on their sword as it sways from side to side with each step they made, a thin sheet of sweat cling to their forehead making people who see them want to applaud at the sight of an outstanding figure doing work once the sun is up, there is a tender smile on their face as their hand waved at him from afar. “your hair isn’t tied up. want me to do it for you?”

like sent into a trance, chung myung wordlessly gives to your awaiting hands his green ribbon, it was brief but he catches a band around your thumb. “were you wielding a bow? you have a thumb ring.”

“i went out hunting,” you stood up behind his sitting figure as your fingers card through his fluffy hair. on the side of the doorway of chung myung’s room, there’s a wooden side table with two chairs you can pull under. it’s a highly convenient furniture that chung myung bought on a whim. who said impulse buying is always a bad thing? they clearly haven’t seen the side table. the craftsman was so happy that his ‘unusual’ invention was bought and seeing that it was the highly regarded plum blossom sword saint, his spirit reached the heavens.

chung myung perks up, “does my dear junior willing to give me their catch?”

he may have his back facing you but you well know that he was wearing a teasing expression, a grin on his lips as he closes his eyes while you tighten up the ribbon. “sure. i wonder if senior can eat all of them up, though. as they say 'time is of the essence'. tang bo is waiting. hurry up, or face the consequences of being beaten."

“damn, that guy is already here?”

you patted his shoulders, laughing. you step to the side as chung myung stands up to his full height. you leave first but not when a callous warm hand lifts your hand with the thumb ring closer for chung myung to look at. his eyes glimmer with an unknown light you can’t name. so you just let him hold it like that — his own thumb stroke it a few times before he let it go — matching your pace as the both of you walk to the stoned pavements,

later that day, before you turn around to go back to your room, chung myung tosses a shiny material to you which you catch with a heart in your throat. who wouldn’t be surprised, anyway? you were about to mind your business and sleep after a whole day of labour then your sahyung passed something to you without any words. opening your fist, a beautiful jade thumb ring sits on your palm as your wide eyes flicker to chung myung’s self-satisfied figure.

a huge batch of char siu is due.

fuzhou fish ball

you can’t believe the day will come that a certain senior who hasn't taken a single disciple in that long life of his finally arrives. it’s strange to see a small figure beside his imposing height, much more strange that it was a kid once they got nearer and a clear view of a refine-looking boy, with straight hair and a pair of big, strong eyes that remind you of a stone with a similar colour on them, they bring you a sense of refreshing waft of salt in the air accompanied by a low crashing of waves.

there was one question you badly want to voice out.

annoyed by your staring, chung myung huffed. “What?”

“...you didn’t kidnap this child for a ransom, did you?”

chung myung looks scandalized, “what the fuck are you sayi–”

“sahyung! the kid can hear you!”

“so what? he will soon learn that.”

you cleared your throat and knelt to level your gaze at the kid. the last thing you want is to frighten him. with the bickering that just happened right now, you give him a timid smile and the boy’s shoulder drops a little as he hides behind chung myung’s legs. it’s a small change, nevertheless, still change and you’re happy to see that his guard is down and not up. “hello.”

he shyly returned a small ‘hello’. if you’re not a cultivator trained to have good hearing, you’ll not catch it, his greeting might get lost in the wind.

“don’t hesitate to tell me if this bad guy is threatening you, okay?” a giggle slips out from the kid.

“yah!”

“you should eat something.” you ignored the glare in your way as you offered a cheery smile to the kid whose name you haven’t known yet. “this one is called y/n, third grade disciple of mount hua. can i have the pleasure to know the young one before me?”

the kid blinked at the figure in front of him. an air of dignified pillar surrounding you making you appear trusty. having a good intuition, he opened his mouth to say his name but he was beaten to it by the older man.

“the kid wants to change his name.” chung myung said.

“oh,” a click of understanding registered on your face as you nodded and stood up. “after eating, do you want to meet the sect leader? he will bless you with a given name if that’s what you want. feel free to say to this elder here, hm?”

as expected, once the three of you stepped foot inside the courtyard, everyone bombarded questions as they gathered you to the center. the sect has always maintained a family ambience yet it feels the bond is deeper now that the war is over and a child especially the one that is picked up by the plum blossom sword saint is seen as a blessing. the excitement never dies down even when the sun is starting to set as the women with their daughters prepare an impromptu banquet. long line of tables decorated with vibrant red and gold, a group of baek disciples tying the plum blossom flags in the ceilings, another group carrying boxes of drinks and the others keeping the places tidy.

an auspicious occasion is what the old people say.

“just where did they get the money to get those expensive things?”

“sahyung, you didn’t know? the government may keep away from the events of the martial sects but the emperor owes the mount hua sect big time.” you explained. “i handled that matter a few weeks after the war ended as per the sect leader’s permission. the bank notes and everything else is in my care, the treasure chests are with the financial hall. you see those wines?” chung myung glanced at the spot you are focused on where the two older baek disciples are carrying a box with care, then followed by another set of disciples. “gift from the emperor. the ones that reached early were only one-third. the second deal of the agreement…do you remember those men fixed the damages to our sect? that’s the second deal and the last, ownership rights documents of land properties. it wasn’t long ago that these hidden precious gifts were placed underground.”

“hundred years ago is not long ago!”

chung myung side-eyed your relaxed figure, completely baffled at the way you casually bring you’re a walking dungeon. “you hoarder…are you sure you’re not a descendant of dragons? you seem to stick your nose in places with mountains of rewards.”

it’s your turn to glare at him. “i don’t want to hear that from you, of all people. now, where is that cute fuzhou fish ball?”

“what???”

“your first disciple.” you clarified. “he is like a fuzhou fish ball.”

“he is with the sect leader and why are you calling him fuzhou fish ball? are you hungry? you can go eat first, you poor thing.”

awaiting for the last dance

whimsical as the shower rain, you spent a sleepless night opting for a productive path — train. the music of sword cutting the air with the intent of precise point, feet steady to the ground yet agile as a feline, it’s a footwork to allow yourself an escape in a bind, unsettled water that was agitated and quelled. the blade flared cold light, striking a purpose, a sword dance following an illusionary image of an empty plane as the void of life suddenly comes alive with the arrival of plum blossoms.

nights at mount hua are cold and unforgiving. they take advantage of the light clothes worn, crackled frost nipping on the skin turning to a hungry bite, the scenery of plum blossom trees deep red under the chilly moonlight and mocking the pitiful soul to catch a glimpse of it as the first fall of snow buried them. your graceful form in the wintry night comes to mind. chung myung leaned his back on one of the trees as he watched quietly and listened to the light tappings of your boots, sounds heavy landing a blow, wind urging the leaves to dance and chung myung tip of his head to the sight as the vicious swift blade tore the trunk.

it’s hard to discern the difference between the petals drifting slowly in the air from the plum blossom tree sprouting in the ground and the petals unfolded by two elders of the sect. the musings of the night giggled, the series of fists either blocked single-handedly or avoided in a way his body is angled to the side. second slower, you will come to scathe the vital points of this hailed saint. chung myung leapt back, putting distance as you come emerge in the shadows, swinging your leg to kick the side of his face and like your other attempts, it also failed. chung myung seized the opening — suddenly dropping as he pivoted a leg to lose your footing. unprepared, you immediately tumbled, closing your eyes to embrace the impact that never happened, a deep chuckle reverberated above.

chung myung had his arm wrapped around your torso, carrying you like you weighed nothing as he had you hoisted, the feeling of floating strange as he walked back to the newly established dormitories. he passed by the same tree that your sword had pierced in its spot, he applied a spell as it hovered in the back. “that’s enough training for the night, dear junior. i’ll never hear the end of sect leader sahyung’s nagging to find out you sneak out.”

“looks who is calling the kettle black. put me down.”

“no.” still childish at his age, he stuck out his tongue to make fun of your worm-wriggling figure.

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