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todourouki · 4 years ago

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↲ Back to my BNHA Masterlist

i crash, u crash.

SUMMARY: Being with Dabi wasn’t easy and it probably never will be, but he just wants to make sure you’ll stick around. Or in which Dabi tries his best to show you he cares about you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: based off i crash, u crash by lil peep! lol honestly idk about this one. but welcome back gift for me, from me, to you <3

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Dabi & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,476

WARNINGS: Explicit Content, Dabi is toxic, Angst*, NSFW [18+] including spitting, slight daddy kink, squirting, slight overstimulation.

Sex with Dabi was always the same.

Routinely speaking, whenever he was back from a mission was the time you were expected to be on all fours waiting for his attention. It was always rough too, nothing short of angry and aggressive even if it was a form of “love-making.” He could call it what he wanted to though, he knew the universal term for his type of sex was simply fucking.

The positions and their timings were always on schedule. No more than 3 minutes in missionary— all the time in the world doing everything else. You never really got to touch him, and he’s never let you see his face when he came.

The relationship of hot and fiery sex mixed with an unrequited form of codependency grew to an actual romantic one somehow between the days and nights spent together, yet nothing of the dynamic ever changed. The only thing you could recall is that he groggily asked of you to “finally be his girlfriend since you already acted like it.”

Dabi was a complicated person. You never knew if he planned on waking up and deciding he wanted to be single, and honestly the day he decided to do such a thing wouldn’t be a surprise to you. He was an avid participator in the league of breaking hearts and even if you had more than enough knowledge on this, you allowed his sneaky smirk to seduce you into the sheets of his bed and hours of his days.

You eventually found yourself moving in, figuring out that he refused to sleep without the air conditioner on, never wore socks around the house, used way too much salt on his eggs, and never managed to close the curtains after he got out the shower. Above all that though, he never changed the way he fucked you.

Dabi loves you, of course you never had to question it or get reassurance. He showed you in minuscule ways such as stealing bringing you your favorite snacks after a long day without you, doing things such as buying double of what he gets from store runs because you’re in his mind all day, and telling you he’ll be safe for you once he walks out the door. He never says I love you, but he doesn’t need to.

It’s hard to get someone like him to change the way they are, so when you’re sitting on your shared bed flipping through a magazine and see a couples quiz linger across the page, you can’t help but try to feed yourself crumbs of his affection you know you’ll spend a lifetime searching for.

“How long did it take for you to realize you like me?” You broke the silence, squinting at the duo-skin toned man slouched across the wooden headboard.

You heard him chuckle, blinking longly at you with amusement glimmering within his cerulean irises. It wasn’t rare for Dabi to mock you for asking such a thing, but it was a rare moment for you to glare at him deadpanned and genuinely waiting for an answer. It fucking confused him.

“As long as it took you to make me cum the first time.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment enough to make him furrow his eyebrows. It wasn’t like you to not retaliate back, you were always quick to snap back at him. Hearing nothing but his own breathing as you skipped through pages made him furrow his eyebrows. He wanted to ask if you were okay— he really did, but then you’d think he cared.

And Dabi would be a terrible person if he let you know he cared.

The silence was nearly overbearing, nearly deafening in his ears as he tried his hardest to focus on anything but your serious expression haunting him in the back of his mind. Things like this rarely bothered him. It goes to say that Dabi was rarely ever bothered.

Sure, you never asked for much reassurance and never even did as much as ask if he meant it when he asked you out mid-nap, but he really did. Sure, you lived off the whim of thinking it was, but at least the raven haired man knew it was. Right?

The sound of the magazine slamming shut and getting thrown somewhere onto the bed broke Dabi of his thoughts. “I’m gonna’ pee.” You announced, mostly to no one in particular because your soft eyes refused to meet his own. Another rare occurrence.

You lied to Dabi for the first time in your life. Did you really have to pee? Of course not. Did you have to cry in the bathroom for a quick 2 seconds to release the pent up frustration of utter confusion? Of course you did. It was annoying— living with someone and only getting treated as if you were anything in the slightest to him when his dick was inside of you. He only ever fucks you rough and never lets you see his face, and he expects you to believe he wants to be with you?

After cleaning your solemn face from dry tears, your body grudgingly made its way out the bathroom and to the bed. Your presence within the studio was clear, panties strewn across the open drawers mixed with Dabi’s briefs, shoes tucked neatly compared to Dabi’s boots tossed lazily near the door, and perfume bottles layering up against the old brown dresser. You took a quick glance at a picture of you hanging on the wall, a familiar raven-headed man’s arms wrapped around your head as he towered over your frame with his head resting across your head.

It was never worth the confusion.

“Why were you crying?” His dark voice rang out, making you slightly flinch as you dented the soft mattress with your frame.

A quick shake of the head will do, you thought to yourself as you followed your own orders. You knew Dabi wouldn’t push to find out what was wrong, he never does. And he doesn’t, lips shut as he takes a drag from some cigarette he’s smoking and giving you a longing look of aggravation. It’s even less of a surprise for him to do such a thing.

“If you have something to tell me, then I suggest you do it.” If you hadn’t known Dabi for as long as you do, you’d probably assume he was being condescending and outright rude. Because you do know him though, you know that’s exactly how he’s trying to come off to you.

You dreaded it. The eventual confrontation that was inevitable from the moment you accepted to be his girlfriend— it all led to this moment in space and time. You felt exactly how you predicted you’d feel, sick and intimidated. Not necessarily by Dabi because you know he’d never hurt you, but intimidated by the fact that it’s as easy as 1-2-3 for him to up and leave depending on your answer.

“What are we, Dabi?” And there it goes, 1-2-3.

It was like hearing a pin drop. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody did anything for the first three seconds following the ultimatum. He knew he had two options: answer genuinely and reveal information he’d die before releasing, or leave you high and dry yet again for his own benefit when it comes to the mere idea of using words he doesn’t use in bed.

Staring into your eyes never scared him, he cremating people for a living, but knowing that lying behind them were tears falling for your reflection rather than on his shoulder caused a pang to hit his chest. It was unfamiliar and unusual, but looking at your body begin to leave its space in the bed in frustration with his quietness made him snap. You were serious for the first time.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Your words were harsh, harsher than usual and you yourself couldn’t even tell where this newfound energy came from.

You were okay. You were okay with whatever this complicated situationship was, and you probably would have still been okay with it if you hadn’t gotten too deep in over your head and let his words get to you. Him saying he realized he liked you coincidentally while you fucked should be above you, yet here you are.

“Jesus doll, relax.” He taunted, hands reaching out to grab your arm in a fit of confusion and annoyance, “just come back to bed Y/N.”

You felt it - the minute he touched your arm and released the tiniest bit of heat coming off his palm - just how tense he was becoming. He knew once you put your mind to something, it was difficult to get you to move away from it. He knew that there was no escaping this conversation.

It was inevitable really, the fact that one day (which was, unfortunately for him, today) you would question the legitimacy of his emotions for you. You were carefree just like him, that’s why he fell for you. But you were also blunt. If you felt a way, you were going to say it and that’s that.

Easily, the scarred hand gripping onto your arm slid over to your clenched jaw. You didn’t mean to give him a hard time for not looking his way—with the way his fingers squeezed deep into your skin and tilted your head towards him, you knew you did. It almost repulsed you with how obedient your body was to his touch, glancing at him with no shame other than the dried tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna tell you the one time and I’ll never repeat myself,” he threatened, voice treading amongst angry waters as his blue eyes bored into yours, “I’m serious.”

You stood your ground, eyes taking away from your scowling expression as they swirled in curiosity. It didn’t take much to make you lower your frame onto the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you pulled the t-shirt past your exposed panties.

“I don’t say much when it comes to you, or even to when it’s about you—but you’re all I am.” Your eyebrows furrowed, clear confusion written in your face.

“What does tha—” “I’m talking.” Dabi’s aggravated expression never left, not even with the joint hoisted between his lips in nothing but frustration.

“I got nothing to give you, nothing but collected calls from jail and maybe some jewelry I stole cause I got bored. I don’t have any money, anything to my name, and nothing but a spot on the police and hero department’s most wanted list.” His words made you frown, the clear self-depreciation outweighing the cocky and arrogant attitude you once knew to belong to the man infront of you.

“I can’t look you in the eye, show you my face when you milk my cock clean— can’t do shit like that,” Dabi’s smirk was quick to appear, your eyes rolling as you met his serious gaze yet again, “probably won’t be able to take you out the country either unless we run far, far away from here.”

“But nothing I say or do will ever express the way I feel about you.” And now it’s Dabi’s turn for the 1-2-3 process, because that statement in itself made your brain stop working.

Your brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that Dabi’s free hand was circling your bare thigh, moving closer and closer to where he most felt at home. His words never faltered though, only slightly pausing to smoothly slip his hands onto the soaked folds of pink lace.

His words were thrown against empty ears. You couldn’t focus on the words flowing within the room due to the ever-growing heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. Dabi’s hand sank into your leg, heat splitting between your skin enough to hiss and throw your head back.

“From this perfect pussy,” he applied pressure to the space between your legs, the wet patch inducing a smile from his once blank expesssion. The sudden contact caused a gasp to slip from your panting lips. Almost instinctively, Dabi pressed his thumb against your tongue, “to this smart ass mouth, it’s all I need to wake up in the morning.”

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi's heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he's ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who's life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen burn bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

His motions stopped, yet hands showed no intention on moving from its current place. He was staring at you intensely - as intensely as he could - to assert his egotistical dominance but you knew the truth.

And as Dabi lowered your frame into the soft, plush white sheets, he realized he knew the truth as well. Your eyes were dazed, irises looking at all of him at the same time as your body swallowed in his touch and he knew. Dabi knows deep down no matter how much taller, bigger, or dominant he ever tried to be, he would worship the ground you walked on with the blink of an eye.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi's harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

Before you, Dabi was known to be something of a martyr. He fooled women, toying with their souls the same way he toyed with their bodies and cried trauma when they threatened to leave. He kept a string on every one he ever fucked, being cautious enough to keep them at the heel of his feet for a fun time when he felt he had enough of you.

Then, he got addicted. He drowned in your drive, finding for the first time in his life some sort of comfort. Your natural warmth, your smile, your understanding— you were someone Dabi would find himself laughing at for thinking they actually existed.

"You're gonna get tired of me one day," he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, "you're gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own."

He wanted to think he wouldn't care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn't do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he's ever known in his life for as long as he'd live.

With a soft whimper, your hands turned his head from his lowered expression over to your soft eyes. He hated how quick you got him to look at you, and he especially hated how quick you made his breath stop.

"Hey," you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

"You crash, I crash. Always."

Your words hit him, and boy did they hit Dabi hard. The time it took for the word always to softly slip off your tongue was just enough time for Dabi to realize the depth of your words.

They were the same ones that fell between your lips when he thought he was dying, when you thought you were dying, and now. Dabi was complex - that was evident - but he was also the simplest man you knew. All he ever really needed was some reassurance.

It was long before his fingers found their way into your scalp, slipping over the crevices of your neck and gripping onto the back of your head as if his life depended on it. All you could do was gasp.

"Can I touch you?" The words were like a record scratch, repeating through the scarred man's brain all too much to keep anyone sane.

He couldn't tell if it was the slur of your words, or if it was your soft hands running across his thick shoulders as the words whispered into his ears— whatever it was made him take up the obligation of doing anything and everything you said.

It wasn't soon before you found yourself slamming your lips against his, the sensation causing you both to moan. You couldn't tell the difference between his hands and yours, tangled limbs falling deep into the plush comforter covering your shared bed. His weight above you did nothing but encourage you to wrap your bare limbs against his now shirtless one on, hands running through the raven locks above your head.

The minute you felt the heated pads of his fingertips lower themselves down your abdomen, your head shook underneath his and caused him to part his lips from its home on yours.

"Hmph," you groaned, pouting as your hands traveled down to his jeans and began to fiddle with the zipper, "I want to feel you in me now."

Dabi was used to being in control. He was used to ordering your body around, telling you what to do and how to do it. In the bedroom, Dabi made the orders. So when he parted his lips from yours and stood over your body with his scarred hands shoving his pants down his thighs, you couldn't do anything less than moan. Knowing he was taking what you said into consideration brought chills to your skin.

"You sure you're ready for this, sweetheart?" He smirked, legs coming out of the restricting jeans he wore and leaving his tall and lean frame in nothing but gray briefs.

Dabi had a lot to brag about, in the most respectful way possible.

Your hands clawed at his waistband, giggling as you pulled his body all the way back to its original position of resting above you and let the underwear go with a loud smack. Being eye to eye with someone like Dabi was scary, no point in denying that. Her there was something about it that just drove the two of you insane— and he couldn't tell if I was anything short of love.

He silenced himself, attaching his lips to yours and preoccupying a hand into pulling his briefs down just enough. And by just enough, it meant just enough to brush your clothed clit as his painfully hard cock stretched up to his stomach. You couldn’t do anything but flinch, hands reaching out to grip his thick girth and slap it across your clothed pussy.

“Let me do it.” You smiled, eyes boring into Dabi’s own blue ones. Your free hand slipped your panties to the side, his mushroom tip dancing against the rim of your wet hole and causing the two of you to release a soft groan into one another’s face.

If there was one thing Dabi would never get tired of, it would be the feeling of your velvet walls sucking his dick closer into you. Nothing short of sensation hit him the minute your hands shoved the head in, and his almost fell inlove with the view of you watching his large length disappear into your own heaven.

It was hard for you to not cum from his entrance. Even as he bottomed out, your teeth sealing a scream from leaving your throat by pressing into his shoulder, did you realize just how big Dabi was. No matter how skinny, lean, and weightless he seemed, the girth and length on Dabi’s third leg when he was stuffing himself into you never failed to surprise you. Even through the self-inflicted pain of going into this without foreplay, you knew there was nothing that would ever fill you up as amazing as Dabi does.

“Fuuuck,” you dragged out into his earlobe, tongue licking a strip of his patched skin from your bite-mark to the lobe of his pierced ears, “you’re so big.”

He couldn’t help but whimper (another thing on Dabi’s list or shit he doesn’t do but now does because of you), the feeling of your tongue circling his ear as your pussy gripped onto his fleeting cock nearly felt like too much. It didn’t help that you were moaning and whispering in his ear with nothing but pure sex laced in your words.

“You know,” he breathed out, beginning to create a routine with his hips bottoming harshly into your cervix and slowly dragging out in a timely fashion, “this is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

He thinks it’s a compliment, but really it stirs awake the competitive bone in your body. You ignore it though like you always do, choosing to appreciate the fact that he considers you the best at atleast something.

His hand gripped onto your neck, bringing neon stars and dots of blackness to conceal your view of cerulean eyes. Nothing but the lewd sounds of Dabi pushing his dick into your wet hole filled the room, sprinkles of your whimpers and his groans mixing amongst the darkness of the apartment.

Dabi was trouble. He never felt in control of his feelings, never knew what he would want in life, and never bothered to consider living for someone other than himself. It’s moments like these with you though, that makes him realize the God he wakes up thinking about rests between the gap in the middle of your heavenly thighs. He’d killed people before, but the power you held over him was enough to make him consider killing everyone on earth if you’d ask.

You felt him begin to grow impatient, hips pounding into your frame and causing your body to jolt up and down harshly. Words couldn’t describe how amazing Dabi felt inside of you right now. His tip crushed your cervix within every thrust, and it was Dabi’s fingers that lifted your gaping face from the trance of watching him fuck into you to his own face.

“I-I cant.” You began to slip out, tears growing against your eyes as Dabi’s hot fingers began to flick your swollen clit. You swear it’s only been like ten minutes, or maybe Dabi’s huge dick pushing against your cervix was beginning to fuck you stupid. “You’re gonna’ make me cum— make me cum too fast daddy.” You cried out, fingers dragging against the stapled back as you felt Dabi purposely drag one of the piercings located on his tip across your pulsating velvet walls. It was almost too good to be true, and you couldn’t help yourself from kicking his waist over you and forcing his body underneath you. He didn’t even have the courtesy to wipe the smirk off his sweating face.

“Get to work, doll.”

You knew why he spoke to you with such condensation. You also knew exactly why his hands pressed into your ass cheeks as you found your home on top of his bare lap. His scarred torso leaned against the black bed frame, and you decided right then and there that Dabi deserved to get his brains fucked out. So you did exactly what he told you to do— you got to work.

You were wet enough to take him some more, knees straining as you finally pushed his length deep into your stomach. The silent scream that left your lips didn’t go unnoticed though, your fingers that now gripped his cheeks pressing between his lips to keep his teasing menstruations to himself. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t come off your body, and honestly he wished they never had to.

Keeping a grip on your stomach and your ass cheek, an enflamed slap brought a powerful burn across your ass cheek and caused you to jolt against his penis.

“Jesus Dabi, a-are you trying to kill me?” You weakly pleaded, and it didn’t take long for your fucked our expression to start slurring your words.

The sound of you dropping your frame onto his body filled the room, your hips rolling against your clothed clit and bringing sensation you weren’t sure if you could handle. You were trying to focus, but the feeling of Dabi heating a hand up across your ass and slowly beginning to meet your thrusts caused your brain to jumble into a mess of nothing but him.

“Fuck, baby you look so good when you start to get stupid.” He smirked, lips running against the cleavage of your bouncing breasts and lazily sucking on the moving nipple in front of him.

You wanted to fight back, and you wanted to defend yourself against him thinking you we’re starting to get stupid. You really wanted to— the only issue being that you couldn’t. You couldn’t the minute Dabi found a way to meet your thrusts and roughly tilt your neck back up towards the ceiling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Was all you could cry out as you began to grow impatient in your lower abdomen. It just felt too good. And as if to add injury to insult, your walls began to clamp up from the feeling you knew was coming soon. Dabi paid the price.

You’d never seen his eyes get this wide, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth gaped open in shock. His eyes found its way down, the sight of your pussy gripping and swallowing his dick back in and out being something he wishes he could see all day and that’s when Dabi realizes that he is inlove with everything about you.

“It’s like your perfect pussy was made for me, baby.” He whimpered out, smirking between hooded eyes as he struggled to regain some of his consciousness. You were way too good at bouncing on his dick, and he couldn’t help but begin to meet your thrusts with more precision as he felt himself near orgasm.

“A-all for you! Always all- always all for you daddy!” You cried out, voice struggling to come out as you threw your hands against Dabi’s chest and began to bounce as if your life depends on it.

You hate doing all the work, honestly you really do dislike it. But this has been the longest Dabi has allowed you to ride him and the feeling of you literally milking his cock at your own disposal was an offer too good to ruin.

“I know it’s all for me, princess.” He whimpered out, a hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling it low enough to slam your chapped lips against his own. “Wanna know something, baby?”

The words vibrating against your own moans got lost in the sound, your headboard forcibly slamming against the wall only louder as every other thrust from you gradually grew rougher with your urge to cum. Your brain couldn’t do anything less than feverishly nod, hands slipping back onto your body and allowing Dabi to drill into you from underneath. Gasps slipped out of your parted lips with a hand gripping his black hair and the other begging to rub your own clit.

“You crash, I crash forever, right baby?” He moaned out, the words entering your ears and making you cry out with tears finally spilling down your eyes from nothing but intense pleasure.

“Fuck yes daddy, forever!” You cried out, body beginning to hunch over as you felt the pressure in your stomach compared to the way Dabi slammed into you become too much.

“Good, doll,” he moaned, pushing you so far into him, the heartbeat in your pussy was sure to be vibrating onto the veins of his dick, “so do me a favor.”

Everything happened much too fast, your dizzy state only increasing as Dabi grabbed your body harshly and tossed you back underneath him. There you were again, tossed carelessly under him with your legs trembling and pussy stuffed with all of Dabi in his glory. His lips found our ear again, licking your lobe and sucking on it right after.

“Cream all over my cock so I can stuff you up with my kids, deal?” He smirked into you, jolting into you as soon as the last word resonated on all ears.

Soon enough, he found it in himself to thrust into you like never before. You could barely breath, gasping for air as you felt your vagina began to vibrate due to stage of pleasure you were in. And just like that, your body began to run from the overstimulation of Dabi’s hot finger rubbing roughly against your clit as he drills your frame into the crevices of your mattress.

“Da-daddy I’m gonna’....” The words just couldn’t come out— he was begging to fuck you dumb.

You couldn’t feel nothing but Dabi’s dick pound into you, and if this was all you felt before you fell into a sex-coma than fuck it. It will forever and always be worth it.

It was like you were starting to see white. The feeling of one of his hands now roughly gripping your drooling expression closer to his face made you scream in pleasure, Dabi’s smirk leaving only to release a trail of saliva from his throat into the back of yours. You swallowed it with no hesitation, some of the residue slipping through your lips in a mix with your own spit as you began to drool at the feeling of his tip hitting that one spot over and over again.

And that’s when you felt it. You felt the build up, the pressure of holding back becoming too much as you belted into a mess of tears and tried to push his body off your own.

“No baby,” he roughly said, milking his cock into you even harder and rubbing pressured circles into your clit until a strong snapped within you and you saw nothing but white.

You weren’t sure if it was a sub-space you had entered, or some fucked up version of heaven people who just for their brains fucked out go, but either option felt like fair-game the minute your pussy began to squirt a mess of cum and other liquids from the space Dabi still found himself intruding. If anything boosted his confidence, it was this right here.

“Fuck yes baby, squirt for daddy,” he smirked, rubbing you harder and harder as your felt your body stiffen at the overstimulation, “fuck, you’re so hot.”

As soon as you, Dabi found himself cumming harder than he ever had, lips only being able to cry out a mantra of your name. He knew sex with you was amazing— but this was a new high he doesn’t think he’d ever went to let go of. He didn’t even have the energy to lift himself out of you, small drips of cum able to slip out of your swollen pussy making you flinch in both overstimulation and pain. The cockwarming brought chills to your arm, body sprawled underneath Dabi’s panting frame in nothing but a fucked our expression.

You felt him lift his head up, eyes glancing over your puffy closed ones and being able to do nothing more than steal a kiss from your tongue-licked lips. He knows the difference between “fucked-out” you and “genuinely-knocked-out” you, and you knew he knew the difference too. But he acted as if he didn’t.

And before Dabi could pass out on top of your sweaty and sticky frame, words he mumbled into your shoulder nearly burned into your skin. At least, just enough to make your pussy and lips twitch in nothing but contentness.

I crash, you crash. Forever and always.

Sex with Dabi was always the same— sure. It was rough, messy, and painfully over-stimulating, but it was Dabi, and it was more than enough for you.

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi’s heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he’s ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who’s life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi’s harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

“You’re gonna get tired of me one day,” he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, “you’re gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own.”

He wanted to think he wouldn’t care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn’t do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he’s ever known in his life for as long as he’d live.

“Hey,” you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

“You crash, I crash. Always.”

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cathrrrine · 3 years ago

Text

RUN | Pietro x Reader

Originally from my Wattpad

CHAPTER 18: SAFE HOUSE

—

A/N: I hope you guys like this one ! I just wanted to add a little bit of fluff after all that angst-fest. Happy reading my loves! :)

———

"Enigma." I mumbled, the strange woozy feeling in my chest expanding as I shifted in my car seat to turn to Pietro.

"What?"

"I figured it out. I'm your enigma. Everyone has one." There was a lightness to my words as I said them and oddly enough, I didn't really mind. "You said you couldn't figure me out, therefore I'm your enigma."

I could see his hands on the wheel tighten just a little bit. The whole car ride, I'd been observing him. I just couldn't get his words out of my head.

You're driving me crazy, Y/N.

My head felt like it was about to explode by the sheer amount of force it took for me to figure out what he really meant. I felt...perplexed. I was wracking my entire brain out by trying to decipher the whole point of our previous conversation. Why did I drive him crazy? Why did he feel the need to tell me that?

Why did I feel like I should trust him?

"My enigma?" He scoffed, throwing a playful, cocky look my way. "You are nothing close to anything I'd call mine."

I rolled my eyes, "You know, it's no wonder you've got a head full of grey hair, you grouch."

"Hey!" He gasped, genuinely shocked at my comment. "I am most definitely not a grouch."

His accent made his reaction much better than I could've imagined. The way he rolled his R's made me laugh a little, so I copied it just for kicks, the letter teetering on the edge of my tongue. "Yep, a grouch would most definitely say that."

I scanned his face for any signs of annoyance, waiting to see if my words left any impression on him. Instead, I saw his expression grow heavier. I'd miss it if I blinked, but I swore I saw a flash of that same expression he wore when he confronted me before in my cell. Seriously, I have got to figure him out, and soon. Before I'm too vulnerable.

"We're here."

I turned around, looking out of the window to see the building I'd been dreading to return to. My heart felt like it had been dipped in acid and encased in lead. Suddenly, I knew why Pietro grew quiet.

Getting out of the facility had been fun, exhilarating almost. Steve had helped me escape just as he promised and left me with Pietro in the garage, handing him the car keys and giving him strict instructions to drive away while remaining incognito.

Pietro had a dazed look on his face then, part-confusion and part-anxiety, but I knew that we had one thing in similar; roguery in our veins. Pietro is a little troublemaker, I had mused as I eyed his way-too-giddy movements. He had no trouble following his Captain's orders, he was eager almost.

I told Steve that we could hide in an old safe house of mine, a tiny studio located somewhere in a sketchy town that was close to the facility so it was reachable by car, but far enough so that it wouldn't be a problem if any of his teammates were to come looking. At least we'd have enough time to escape if they did.

The last time I'd been here had been 2 years ago. Back when I thought I was still running from The Winter Soldier. Everything the Captain had revealed to me made me want to throw up. How else were you supposed to feel when someone told you that you'd been running and hiding for years, from a ghost? I felt like I'd been on an unprompted wild goose chase, except that instead of chasing the 'goose', I'd been chased by it. What a joke.

"You alright?"

Pietro raised an eyebrow, nothing but that disgusting kindness in his eyes. I wanted to strangle him right then and there. Was he offering me pity?

I threw him a half-hearted scowl, "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I'm just asking. This can't be easy for you, no?"

His words hit me like a truck, and the realisation that he wasn't offering me pity, but simply just inquiring, soon came after. It was an odd question to be asked. I'd rarely been offered that luxury, of someone caring enough to ask if you were alright or not. It felt weird to be on the receiving end of that kind of sincerity, something I thought only existed out of my own realm. Yet here I was, trying to figure out the answer to his question.

I shook my head in an effort clear my thoughts, sort of like an etch-a-sketch. "I've been through worse."

We entered the building quietly, ignoring the looks thrown our way from a few bystanders. It was a rather rundown building, just as I had remembered it to be. I'd never made company with any of the people who live here, because how could I have? What kind of shit assassin would do that?

"They must not be used to new faces, huh?" Pietro tried—and failed—to ignore the man eyeing us from our right, clearly uncomfortable with the unwanted staring.

"I'd assume not. It's a pretty small town."

Pietro cleared his throat, "I see."

He looked a little uneasy, shifting from foot to foot. I followed his line of gaze and oh my god, the man was still staring.

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snarled. He scurried away immediately, eyes averting from us either in shock or in fear. Though it was most likely the latter, considering the way he kept looking back with wild eyes to see if we would chase him down.

I turned back to my speedster companion, and sure enough, he looked much better than he did before. "It's fine, he's just a creep."

He nodded, "I was never fond of creeps."

We climbed up the flight of stairs that lead to the studio apartment, silent the whole way up with Pietro taking in his surroundings and with me being a bit preoccupied with the thoughts swimming in my head. Memories from my past kicked in violently, and I tried to swallow them down.

"Is this it?" He said as I stopped in front of a tattered door with the number 42 on top of it, pointing to it with his right hand.

"Yep." I walked closer to the door, reaching up to the number 4 and trying to detach it from the wall. Apparently though, it was too high for me, sitting just at the tip of my fingers. Either someone had moved it higher, or I'd grown shorter since

Heels. I'd worn my goddamn heels when I last set this thing up. I'd have slapped myself by now if my hands weren't occupied.

Annoyed, I groaned and stood on the tip of my toes. Just a bit more.

"Here."

My breath caught in my throat as I felt his voice reverberating through his chest which was now level to my head. Pietro came up behind me with his taller stature, his height enabling him to reach for the 4 in less than a second, his hand brushing against mine in the process. I blinked, hard, trying to steady myself and grab hold of my thoughts. I felt my face grow hot, warmth spreading through my skin like fire.

I tried not to make it obvious, how much his skin contact had bothered me. I felt stupid for making such a big deal out of it, and even more so that it was caused by him. What the hell? My throat felt tight, so I cleared it with a cough and put on a neutral expression seamlessly.

He backed away as soon as he grabbed hold of the number, twirling it around his fingers with a playful, lopsided smile. Holy shit, I want to rip it off his face. Just punch the living shit out of him.

"Hmm, maybe you're not that useless after all." I scoffed.

He grinned, "Well, if the grouch hadn't been here, it would've taken you all day to reach for this thing."

"Huh, so you admit you are a grouch."

"I didn't—Whatever you say, gnome."

"Wow, look at you." I snickered. "Practicing sarcasm are we? Pray, do tell, was I your inspiration?"

He shook his head in defeat, then he flipped the 4 over, eyebrows meeting in the middle. "What is this anyway? Some sort of secret hidden in here?"

Classic topic changer.

"Yes," I snatched the sign from him. "A very important secret actually."

I turned the thing around and pressed hard on the back of the long vertical line with my nails, breaking the plastic cover. It gave in with a little bit of pressure, and I dug my fingers in to pull out the slender, metal object that I had hidden 2 years ago.

"Ah. The key." Pietro looked impressed.

"Smart, isn't it? It's an old trick that I stole from a woman in Amsterdam."

He moved closer, and I felt myself flinching a little, afraid my body would have the same reaction that it did just a few seconds ago. Luckily, he didn't notice how distressed I was.

"Why bother though, if you weren't going to keep the key with you? Why not just kick down the door or climb in through a window or something?"

There he goes again, with his perpetual rambling.

"We're 4 floors up idiot, climbing in through the window is too risky, people might see and I might fall and die, which is not very ideal, in case you haven't figured that out yet." I inserted the key into the lock and twisted it, hearing the clack of the latch and bolts as they moved.

"Plus, I just did it for fun. I never even knew if I'd come back here or if this building would even still be intact by the time that I did."

He didn't take up the trouble to reply, or even if he did, I didn't hear him. The moment the door opened and I stepped foot inside the room, I was immersed in the haze of my past. A version of my life that was drastically different to the one I had now.

My emotions were all over the place.

A cloud of dust covered the room from years of vacancy, our shoes creating imprints onto the floor. I was surprised no one had broken in for the whole 2 years. Somewhere in the back of my head though, the memory of me threatening the landlord popped up.

"If I come back and I find out that my house got fucked up, I won't hesitate to drive this knife through your chest."

It's a wonder how far a knife and few sharp words could get you.

"Looks like it needs a bit of vacuuming, just a bit. But that's just my opinion."

I fumbled around for something hard and chucked it at Pietro's head with full force, earning an 'Ow!' immediately after.

"What was that for?"

"I've been meaning to throw something at you for a while now." I shrugged, then continued to explore my previous home even further.

It was exactly as I left it, minus the accumulated bits of dirt and the herd of dust bunnies. I walked to the small kitchen space, opening the cabinets and finding the slightly dented kettle and the 2 mugs I had kept there, untouched. Then I fished around the drawer beneath it and eventually found the box of—hopefully unexpired—tea packets and some Sweet'N Low's.

My fingers clasped around the faucet knob and turned, waiting for a good minute for running water. "Come on, come on..."

After some violent sputtering and grumbling from the sink, out came the water flow. Yes! I cheered mentally.

Then I turned to the silver-haired grouch, gesturing to the tea packets I held between my fingers. "Care for some tea?"

He shrugged, "Only if you won't poison me."

taglist: @ifilwtmfc

#run pietro x reader #pietro x y/n #pietro maximoff imagine #pietro maximoff #i want this slow burn to end already oh my god #marvel #marvel female reader insert #slow burn enemies to lovers #mcu imagines #avengers age of ultron #marvel reader insert

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elysiadjarin · 4 years ago

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Gentle Burn

She was only supposed to be a girl at a brothel. What made the Mandalorian look at her twice?

Find the first part here:

Warning: none

2: Just a Man

Lyra lay in the bed, freshly washed. She’d managed to get most of the Mandalorian’s seed out of her, though strangely enough she didn’t hate it as much as she’d thought she would.

Despite herself, her chest ached. The warrior had been so... so kind and gentle with her. She’d hardly felt any pain except for the first sting when he’d entered, something she had never thought was even possible.

She wished she could leave. She knew better than to get attached, knew better than to wish that he would take her with him, buy her from this brothel. Take her, if just to take care of the child and keep him satisfied. That life would be better than staying here, at the brothel.

But she knew not to dream. She would be stuck here, for years, paying off her contract.

She heard the door open again, and briefly wondered where he’d gone. She felt sleepy, but tried to keep herself awake, unsure if he would want more from her. She did ache a little, but it wouldn’t be unbearable.

Instead, he slid into the bed next to her. “Come here.”

She shifted forwards, into his chest as he wrapped his arm around her and pulled her into his body. Lyra could feel the lines of his chest through his shirt, almost feel the heat through the fabric. She tried to push away the ache in her chest, knowing that she couldn’t afford to feel affection for this man. Just because he’d been kind for one night didn’t mean he would want her for any more. As far as she knew, he could have just wanted to be her first.

“Lyra.” The name seemed to roll around in his mouth.

“Yes?”

He shifted a little. “Have you ever wanted to travel?”

He could hear the confusion in her voice, feel the way she tried to stay distant from him.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“Even if it’s dangerous?”

She paused, and he gathered the feeling that she was debating what to say.

“You can be honest with me, Lyra. I would rather you were.”

She nodded timidly. “I- I would rather travel and be in danger than be here, sir,” she whispered.

He slid his hand down to her hip, rubbing circles with his thumb. He just... enjoyed touching her. The sensation of her.

“I’ve bought your contract from the brothel,” he finally said.

She jerked. “S-sir?”

“I’m a bounty hunter. I don’t always have the time to take care of the child. You seem good enough with him, and he likes you,” he said simply, not wanting to waste words. “I could use the companionship,” he added, noting her cheeks flush a little.

“Th-thank you, sir.” Her voice trembled a little. “I’ll- I’ll do my best.”

He just reached back up to pull his fingers through her hair. “Get some sleep. We leave tomorrow morning.”

He stared at the wall for another half hour, feeling her lay against his chest, asleep. Everything about her was so... soft, so gentle. Everything in him screamed after one night together that he needed to have her beside him for the rest of his life. He knew he’d have to protect her, take care of her, provide for her. He knew the extra burden it would be.

But somehow... it reminded him of his own parents. The things they’d sacrificed for him, for each other. Besides, he thought sourly, thanks to the fact that he’d bought her from a brothel, he didn’t have to worry about her seeing his face or not. Maybe she wouldn’t love him. But he was just selfish enough to not quite care, as long as she would continue to lay beside him every night.

He fell asleep thinking about the changes he’d have to make to the ship to accommodate her.

Lyra woke up to the sound of crying. Letting out a little gasp, she froze for a moment, listening. The child was crying from his bassinet.

Trying to move carefully to not wake the warrior, she slid out of bed and grabbed her shawl, dragging it around her shoulders and quickly going to the bassinet. It popped open to reveal big, watery brown eyes.

“Oh, shhh, it’s okay little one,” she murmured, bending to pick him up. He quieted as soon as she held him, only letting out a little sniffle. His fingers gripped her shawl, and he cooed.

Moving back to the bed, she sat on the edge and gently cradled the little one. “Shhh, Daddy’s sleeping, lovey,” she whispered, stroking the little ears and trying to blink sleep out of her eyes. Her body ached a little from the night before, but despite everything, she couldn’t feel any sort of hatred for the warrior. Not when he’d bought her contract. Even if her services as an escort and nanny had been bought for a price, it was better than being used and thrown away, again and again.

And at least she’d have this one to take care of. “Why did you wake up, Hmm? Did you have a bad dream?”

He stared up at her with eyes that seemed too intelligent for his small frame. His ears flapped, but he didn’t reply.

“I wonder how old you are,” she told him, readjusting his wrinkled clothes.

“He’s fifty.”

The husky voice behind her made her start and look around. The warrior sat up, one arm over his knee. He let out a sigh, then his visor turned to her.

“I- I’m sorry if we woke you,” she stammered.

“Come here.”

Still holding the child, she scooted backwards. He reached out once she was close enough, grasping her waist and pulling her into his chest. Though a little startled, she said nothing. His helmet didn’t move, but his arm wrapped around her waist.

“I need to prepare to leave. Can you get food for yourself and him?”

She nodded. “Yes, sir. I- what about you?”

“I will eat on my ship. My Creed dictates that no one must see my face if I am to keep this armor.” He shifted, but still didn’t let her go. “I had all of your things delivered to my ship already, so don’t worry about it.”

“Thank you, sir.” She ducked her head, letting the little one grasp her finger.

He shifted, stretching in a way that reminded her of a coiled serpent, ready to strike. His hand slid across her waist again, his fingers leaving little sparks where they touched. Then he let go, and turned to stand.

Lyra slid off the bed, going to the bassinet. “Come on, little one. Let’s go get something to eat, shall we?” Hiding how shaken she was at the way the warrior’s touch had made her feel, she headed out, the bassinet in front of her.

The matron found her in the kitchen, spooning broth into the child. “Lyra.”

Lyra looked up, heart in her mouth. “Yes, Mistress.”

But to her surprise, the matron simply sat on the bench, hands folded in front of her. “You’ve been bought by the Mandalorian, and he paid a heavy price for you. I don’t know what you did, girl, but you must have done it well.”

Lyra felt the hot shame well in her, and she looked down. “I- I didn’t do anything- I just-“

The Mistress waved it away. “Maybe he just liked your body, I don’t pretend to know, Lyra. I see he has you taking care of his child. Good luck to you, and don’t get killed. Mandalorians are bounty hunters, I’m sure you know that.” She stood, brushing off her dress. “Your things have already been delivered to his ship. Good luck.”

Lyra stared at the empty doorway, wondering why the matron had come to say goodbye. Guilt? Or a strange thanks for earning her profit? She only snapped out of it when the baby burbled demandingly. She resumed feeding him, trying to eat herself between spoonfuls.

Once she was finished, she went back up to the Mandalorian’s room to find him in full armor, strapping on his last weapon.

“There are clothes on the bed for you. Meet me at the door.” He strode out.

Lyra went to the bed, relieved that she wouldn’t have to walk outside with only the suggestive nightgown on. A pair of loose trousers and what she assumed was one of the Mandalorian’s shirts had been laid out on the bed. Though a little confused, she changed and slipped the shoes on. The trousers were a cool, light material that fit her well, but the shirt fell down almost to her knees, pooling around her.

She quickly tied her hair back and draped her shawl around her head, then headed downstairs with the cooing child. The Mandalorian waited for her near the door, nodding once. He turned and began walking, while Lyra took one last glance behind her at the brothel.

She wouldn’t be sad to leave it behind, but she had to wonder what would happen in the future. The Mandalorian had been kind for one night. Would he continue to do so afterwards? Would he decide to keep her and then kill her or sell her off when he tired of her?

Shaking away the thoughts, she decided to simply take one day at a time. After all, hadn’t she wished for this?

#my writing #mando and grogu #mandalorian x reader #19+#mandalorian smut #smut #x reader #the mandalorian

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storyweaverofgondor · 4 years ago

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Ya know what? No. I’m not waiting until i finish my LOTR AU to write this. Have a little Cats Princess Bride au preview on this fine Wednesday morn! @alonz-ho

Alonzo gasped as he was roughly thrown down on a rock, barely able to catch himself.

“Rest, Highness.” His captor commanded.

He raised his angry eyes to the black suited figure “I know who you are.” He growled. “Your cruelty reveals everything. You're the Dread Pirate Roberts, admit it!”

The fiend gave a mocking bow, arms flung wide “With pride!” she declared and returned her hands to her hips as she straightened “What can I do for you?” She asked in faux hospitality.

“You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces.” Alonzo hissed lowly, blue eyes flashing with rage.

The Dread Pirate Roberts tsked in disapproval and shook her head “Hardly complimentary, your highness.” She scolded then gave him a probing look “Why loose your venom on me?”

Alonzo's blue eyes were cold with hate, face hard as marble “You killed my love.” He rumbled in a low voice. The old wound in his heart twinged in pain.

“That's possible. I kill a lot of people.” Roberts said with a shrug and crossed her arms, tone relaxed and conversational. “Who was this love of yours?” She asked, striding placidly out of sight to settle on the ground against a fallen tree “Another Prince like this one? Ugly, rich and scabby?”

“No!” Alonzo snapped, annoyed by the pirate's dismissive attitude and twisting around to face her once again “A farm girl. Poor! Poor and perfect.” His voice trailed of in soft sad reminiscence “With eyes like moonlight upon the waves.” He murmured softly, lost in his recollections. He roused himself with a shake and fixed the pirate with an angry look “On the high seas your ship attacked! And the Dread Pirate Roberts never takes prisoners!”

“I can't afford to make exceptions.” Roberts shrugged conversationally, as relaxed as can be as she spread her arms in a 'What can you do' manner then clasped them behind her head “I mean once word leaks out that a pirate has gone soft then its nothing but WORK! WORK! WORK! all the time!”

She . . . she was complaining about it like . . . like a shepherd with a stubborn sheep! “You mock my pain!”

“Life is pain, Highness!” The Dread Pirate Roberts spat in a viscous tone, eyes flashing dangerously “Anyone who says differently in selling something.”

Alonzo stared at silently then turned away, stricken.

The pirate pushed herself back to her feet with a thoughtful frown “I remember this farm girl of yours, I think.” The dark suited figure remarked as strolled back our to stand beside the Princess “This would be what? Five years ago” She asked and looked inquiringly down at the black and white cat. “Does it bother you to hear of him?” The pirate asked almost kindly, having received no response to their previous question.

“Nothing you can say will upset me.” Alonzo murmured quietly, gazing out over the hills.

“She died well, that should please you.” The pirate told him, crossing her arms thoughtfully as she moved a few steps away, clearly dredging up an old memory “No bribe attempts or blubbery. She simply said please. 'Please I need to live.'”

Alonzo dropped his gaze this, tears in his eyes.

“It was the please that caught my memory.” Roberts told him, turning to look at him “I asked her what was so important for her. 'True love', she replied.”

Alonzo looked up at her with pained eyes.

The Dread Pirate Roberts gazed back at him, gaze almost sympathetic. “And then she spoke of a boy of surpassing beauty and faithfulness I can only assume she meant you.” The black suited figure said, waving her hand at him as she paced past him once again “You should bless me for destroying him before he found out what you really are.”

How dare-?! “And what am I?!” Alonzo demanded in outraged, ears pressed flat against his skull and eyes flashing like lightning.

“Faithfulness he talked of, madam! Your 'enduring faithfulness'!” The Dread Pirate Roberts snapped hotly, shoulders straights as she squared up against him “Now tell me, when you found out he was gone did you get engaged to your Prince that same hour or did you wait a howl week out of respect for the dead?”

“You mocked me once never do it again!” Alonzo screamed at her, outrage making his face hot as the grief ripped through his soul anew “I died that day!”

A strange look passed over the pirate's face as she stared at him and opened her mouth to respond. A distant whinny made her spin around, eyes widening at the sight of the horses topping a nearby ridge.

“And you can die too for all I care.” Alonzo snarled under his breath and struck the pirate in the back, the force of the blow sending her tumbling wildly down the steep incline of the hill.

“As! You! Wish!”

Alonzo's heart stilled and the breath froze in his lungs. Oh, Everlasting! That voice . . . ! “Oh, my sweet Cassandra!” he gasped out, breathless with shock “What have I done?” He hurried to followed and yelped as his soft silken shoes slipped out from under him and sent him flying head over hills after his resurrected love.

So. What do you guys think?

#Princess Bride Cats AU #The Princess Bride #cats the musical #casslonzo #Alonzo as Buttercup #Cassandra as the Dread Pirate Roberts #I'm doing it! :D #This is going to be fun to write! <3

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alpaca-writes · 4 years ago

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Mystics, Chapter 12

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten] [chapter eleven]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: memory whump, psychological whump, noncon touching (nonsexual), swearing. torture mention, car accident mention

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

Store meeting. 8pm tonight. –

“And, send.” Lyrem muttered to himself, then sighed. He laid his elbow against the countertop, staring mindlessly at his phone and drank the last sip of his coffee before throwing it into the trash bin beside him. The shapeshifter was in the alley, waiting for their cue. All Lyrem needed now, was Arch. A slight flittering sound alerted him to a new text.

Omw.

Perfect. Everything was in motion. Everything was going to work out. Arch needed a little more push. Just a slight nudge to keep them interested in working for him. The farther they went, the harder it would be to return to innocence. He couldn’t allow them the chance to turn away. He needed to awaken their memories naturally. He needed them to be lost in their fury. He needed them to take that extra step- he needed them to kill. And who better to help them to do that than-

The front door flew open in a rage. Lyrem was faced with a version of himself blazoning with passionate anger. His eyes were red, his face was pink. He looked as though…

“What happened to you?” He asked himself. The other Lyrem wiped a stray unstoppable tear from his face.

“Oh, you’ll fucking find out!” He shouted. He travelled through the store and directly entered the employee washroom. He remained in there for several minutes before emerging with his face rinsed but still tender. He announced to his other self, still in a fit. “I’m taking the SUV.”

The present Lyrem raised a brow, then returned to staring at his texts. It wasn’t often that he dared cross himself within a time-stream.

“Just don’t crash the damn thing.” He hollered, but his future self was already gone through the back.

-----

The Labyrinth.

Arch had only ever heard of it.

What they knew was simply that it was a place of emptiness. It was a place where nothing existed. A place where suffering, joy, life and death ceased to be. It was also a place that stole you from the world. A step into the depths of the Labyrinth and you’d be forgotten to all. Forgotten to the whole world- except for the very one who had tossed you in. Even on Earth, the Labyrinth would ensure you’d never exist there either- not even in a memory. It wasn’t like simple Latin blood magic. This was a loss to endure forever.

Now, they saw it, and it was much less impressive than they expected. Lyrem had propped open the back door as Arch held onto the man’s body- or the person they were to assume was the man. But… Arch knew better than to believe everything they heard. They were reminded of the policeman, Grenn, and what he had said a week ago-

“How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie stuck in his leg?”

At the time, it wasn’t as important to know how the man got away, as much as it was important to find him. Lyrem seemed sure that they had found him, but Arch wasn’t so sure- especially not after they leaned into his right leg. There wasn’t anything remotely close to a reaction from him. The knife was buried at lease two inches into his leg, of that, Arch was certain; and no one could heal from that in a week. The Labyrinth wouldn’t be pleasant, certainly, but at least they weren’t about to kill an innocent man.

“Well?” Lyrem touted, “What are you waiting for?”

Arch looked up and down the empty alleyway. Usually, Lyrem’s vehicle would be blocking the view of the street from the alley’s entrance, but it wasn’t around tonight. Maybe it was at a mechanics’; maybe Arch would get lucky.

“Nothing,” they said, dismally. They propped the man up, who was now completely unconscious from a second well-placed blow to the head, and kicked him forward into the darkness.

Lyrem closed the door after the shapeshifter.

“I am proud of you, Arch,” he said, but this time, it sounded skeptical. Like he was testing them. He could see the change in their demeanour and he measured what this new version of Arch might mean for him.

“That wasn’t the man, was it?” They postulated. Lyrem squirmed under their gaze. He nodded apologetically, and gave a half smile.

“Too clever for your own good,” he praised warmly. Approaching, he clasped his hands together. “You caught me. That was not the Man- though you certainly put him in his place, didn’t you? The Labyrinth… I would choose death over the Labyrinth a hundred times over if given a choice. Quite diabolical of you to choose the Labyrinth.”

Arch stepped backward, nearly tripping over their own feet to do so. Lyrem regarded their movement keenly, and furrowed his brows.

“What’s wrong, Arch?”

“Nothing,” they mumbled, looking away, towards the door. “What… was he? Why did he look like the man?”

“Oh,” Lyrem realized. “He is a shapeshifter. Hard beings to find, I will admit but for this particular job, he did just perfect. Well worth the expense I think.”

Arch squinted their eyes at Lyrem, who was so comfortable with the idea of tossing people away.

“So, he was like you?” Arch alleged tentatively. “A… a monster?”

Lyrem stepped forward at the accusation, towering himself over the kid that he regarded so highly. A sharp betrayal stung him in the chest. He had almost forgotten that his future self had visited him to retrieve the SUV. He may finally know exactly what set him off into such a fury.

“Say that again.”

Arch stammered and stumbled over their words, their hands finding their way to their pocket where their phone was missing, but the mace, thankfully, remained. Lyrem stopped them with a finger to their lips, resulting in an upsetting silence from Arch.

“I am not a monster,” he stated. “What I am is a bestower of great gifts. I gave you dominance and power over those who have oppressed you and you would lower me to the tier of a shapeshifter- a monster?”

Arch was shaking now, unable to move any further away, and too fearful to object to his statements.

“You promised me your life, your devotion to this work that I do. Arch, if I am truly a monster in your eyes, then you need not fear me any more than the one that stares back at you from a mirror.”

Lyrem lowered his fingers, and took a deep breath.

“I will forgive you, Arch. I will forgive you because I care about you, and because you did something very difficult for me today.” Lyrem raised his arm again, setting a hand on their shoulder. “And I suspect you are still trying to remember everything that you and I have done together. So… I apologize if this experience was… rattling.”

“My…” Arch mumbled, still stricken with a sense of danger that was overwhelming them, reason and all. “My mom… she warned me…”

The memories were fading… They were fading quickly. But their mom… their mom?... told them… somebody told them not to trust this man. The man with the gem shop. The man who forced them to work late. The man who taught them what power truly was.

This was the man they feared. And they feared him more than anything else in the world.

The lid of the mace hit the alleyway’s pavement, rolling into a gutter of the road. The hiss of the spray and the following spewed insults, were enough of a distraction for Arch to run into the street after they had thrown the emptied canister into the old man’s face. The only thing screaming in their mind was the knowledge that they had to return home and not Lyrem’s well chosen words that echoed down to them as he followed them at a slower pace to the sidewalk.

“YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!”

Arch flew down the many streets, pushing past the evening street-walkers if needed. Their legs fought them the whole way; still recovering from the bruises from the crash and their back still feeling the panging effects from the whiplash that caused a near-constant aching. For now, they couldn’t care less. They needed to get home. They needed to be safe. They needed…

For whatever reason, a visual of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore popped into their head. There was something about it that was wrong. There was something missing. Someone missing. Who was telling them about that ridiculous movie, again?

Who would be waiting for them at the house? They thought.

Maleficent. That stupid cat.

People lived with other people though, didn’t they? Families. They realized. That was what it was called. They had one of those. Human families. Siblings and grandparents and fathers and…

They reached the end of their block, their own face worn from the fears of that night and exhausted from everything that had been revealed to them. They weren’t a monster… They couldn’t be.

They were Arch. They were a stupid high school student who had a part-time job. They had friends... they had little hobbies… they failed Spanish class.

They also tortured Kyle. They flayed his skin so that Lyrem could dry them and use them as paper for certain macabre spell work.

The more they ran with the knowledge of what they had done and who they had hurt, the harder it was to continue… the easier it was to give up. Their knees buckled, hitting the sidewalk pavement with force. Out of breath, and feeling nauseous, Arch’s forehead met the hot ground next; their arms and hands curled around their head as they threatened to pull their own hair out as a means of distraction from their horrible reality.

“There you are…”

Arch gulped, and merely wept, soaking the sidewalk in a small spot where their face was supported only by their forearms. They felt a firm grasp pulling them up by the elbow, and they succumbed to its demands. Their knees were torn into by stray pebbles, tossed on from the boulevards- some were still small enough to remain stuck beneath their there, leaving specks of red across their skin.

“Wh-where…” Arch started to say- though they didn’t entirely know what they were trying to ask as a fog of grief and anger and fear poured over them. “Where’s… my…”

It was exhausting, trying to remember exactly what was so wrong- why they couldn’t stand to be around Lyrem right now- and despite their best efforts to pull away, he dutifully remained by their side as they walked the rest of the street together. Slowly they arrived at the front door of the house.

Maleficent sat there at the top of the porch, waiting; her blue eyes peering judgmentally at the kid as they found their way up the stairs. A long grey tail swept from side to side lazily, then she proceeded to lick herself.

Lyrem closed them into the house; the scent of burning paper filling it. He had lit a small fire in the living room and stacked several small Rubbermaid containers beside it- one of which, sitting on the raised slate hearth was half empty.

The futon was roughly shoved back into the form of a couch. Bags of clothing in multiple colours remained by the door, as well as a stack of math and chemistry texts with haphazardly strewn loose-leaf papers.

He sat Arch down on the futon as he laid a hand on their back. Gently, he caressed them and pulled a warm fleece throw over their lap. Arch curled into it, and watched the fire burn, engulfing the last memories of the people they thought of as family. Lyrem return to stoking it. He picked through some photos and papers from the open bin, allowing Arch to watch as he tossed them to the flames.

Arch found themselves drifting into a deep dreamless sleep. With a pillow under their head and the room growing too warm, Lyrem studied them fondly as he continued to shove their past into the flames. Over an hour later, he closed the lid on the one of the last bins. He would return to burning those papers and photos another time. He pushed the little metal bar to close the flue on the fire, and shut the door on it as it groaned like a horn.

“You rang…?”

Lyrem turned around, seeing Paimon, he scoffed. Then held a finger to his lips to keep the demon quiet until he shooed him into the kitchen. Lyrem started the kettle on the stove. Paimon looked from the couch and then back to Lyrem warily, and then opened his mouth.

“Don’t say it,” Lyrem interjected. Paimon looked slightly offended.

“I was going to say that our lawyer has their papers ready,” Paimon replied with an innocent conjecture. Removing his tall hat, he placed it on the small worn wooden table. Lyrem nodded, and he continued. “But also, that you are getting too close.”

Lyrem pulled himself away from the cupboard; a tin of hot chocolate powder in his hand, he considered using it as a bludgeoning instrument- but even if he had something more weaponized, Paimon wouldn’t have felt a thing. He was a demon, after all.

“All Arch has to do is sign and your debts will become their debts. You won’t ever have to worry about what you owe- well until you make another ridiculous deal, that is.”

“Keeping Maria alive was not a ridiculous deal,” Lyrem said. He pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, filling them with spoonfuls of the powder. Now they only needed to wait for the water to boil.

“My apologies,” Paimon instilled a silence into the room. Absently he sifted through the mail with Charlotte’s name sprawled over it. Insurance payment reminders, some neighbourhood notices, and list of seemingly random addresses she had penned out over the phone one day, they all sat in a heap. “Their mother, then?”

Lyrem accepted the shame with dignity and crossed his arms as he leaned into the fridge.

“It had to be done. Arch is too easily influenced by them,” He spoke simply. “Thank you again for providing me with another doorway. It took a lot of energy… I may need to devour a heart or two before I replenish my strength.”

“Have you considered that you might be getting in a little over your head?”

Lyrem shook it. “No. I- I am not in over my head, Paimon. My head is still well above the waterline, thank you very much.”

Paimon smoothed his beard to the end and regarded the man skeptically.

“So, you will still allow Arch to sign?”

Lyrem blinked, his lashes fluttering bit as he thought of his answer. Then he scowled.

“They already said they would sign. I am sure that if Arch cares about me, and cares about the work ahead of them, that they will make the right decision for themselves.”

“And if they make the wrong decision?” Paimon postulated.

Lyrem fell silent just in time for the kettle to scream out with a high whistle. He shut off the stove, and picked it up. Filling the three mugs and giving them a stir, he passed one to Paimon, then moved to the living room.

With a light nudge, Arch awoke to the smell of the warm chocolate sugar and accepted the cup as they sat up. Wrapping their blanket around their shoulders, Lyrem asked.

“Are you feeling better, now?”

Arch nodded, brushing away some dried tears. Past Lyrem’s head of grey, the light was on in the kitchen with the demon in black sitting there still. He caught their gaze and held it carefully. Arch waved.

Paimon nodded back with a slight sideways grin.

“What’s Paimon doing here?” they asked, whispering to Lyrem.

Good. They remembered Paimon.

“He’s just here to catch up, that’s all.” Lyrem left them to their own devices on the couch and returned to the kitchen table as he retrieved his own comforting mug and held onto it with both hands as if the simple act could warm his rapidly cooling heart.

‘Let them enjoy their prom- their graduation. One last night out with their friends.” Lyrem was asking- no, pleading more than telling.

“Immediately after. I don’t want you to be running around any longer with this target on your back. It makes me… uneasy.” Paimon adjusted in his seat. “You and I still have much to do.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Lyrem sipped on his hot chocolate as his hazel eyes glazed over from thoughts that were perhaps too deep for his own good.

7 notes · View notes

personasintro · 5 years ago

Text

Hope World | 06 [jhs]

⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; You’ve decided to try dancing class, but the one who teaches you how to dance actually hates you.

⏤𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 6.3k

⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: strong language, mentions of eating disorder

⏤𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒔: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06

𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒌⏤𝒌𝒐-𝒇𝒊

“Fuck, I never really had a thing for dancers but seeing him... Gosh, I think I’m in love, he’s–“ you don’t hear the rest of the girl’s sentence as she walks away with grin plastered on her face, her sport bag thrown over her shoulder as she happily talks with someone on the phone, which you assume is her friend. There’s no doubt that she’s talking about one and only Jung Hoseok and you can’t help, but roll your eyes at it.

Yeah, he’s hot but his attitude is repelling. You’ve spent the last few days without seeing him, thinking about what Namjoon told you. The fact that he made sure you’re safe and taken care of while being drunk, didn’t set with you well. You actually felt the need to talk to him about it and thank him for that, but you promised Joon you wouldn’t. He told you that Hoseok doesn’t want you to know, for some weird reason. Namjoon even hoped that you would see Hoseok in a different light after knowing this, but there was a set of curses following when you got a message from Hoseok himself, telling you to come sooner. You talked on the phone with Namjoon at that time when you got the message, his sigh of disapproval sounded from the phone.

‘Just be nice for fucks sake.’ he told you when you hang up the phone with frowned face.

You walk up to the door, where on the other side is Hoseok, waiting for you. You eye the door for a moment but quickly roll your eyes. Why does it take you so long to open the freaking door? Snapping the door open, you’re immediately slapped with the smell of something good — food. Your stomach scrunch and you automatically go down to reach it and give it a small pat before you locate the source of the good smell. And there it is. Hoseok sits down with crossed legs on the floor, a plastic containers in front of him, as he patiently taps his knee. Once he hears you there, his eyes snap to yours and he straightens up.

“You said I should come sooner?” you ask unsurely, dropping your sport bag next to his, and not in your usual spot, which is on the other side of the practice room. And there you see it. The fried chicken with rice and kimchi beside it causes your mouth to salivate. Gulping, you look at Hoseok instead. The only food you ate today was a cereal with milk, which is definitely not enough to fill your stomach, you know that. But you need to go on a diet.

“I did,” he nods, motioning for you to sit. You do, eyeing him carefully as he starts to open the last box, revealing another container with rice. “Let’s eat.” He says, pulling out chopsticks from plastic bag.

“What?”

You don’t get it. Aren’t you going to dance?

“Let’s eat.” he repeats again casually, already handing you your chopsticks. Hesitantly, you take it because you’ve the feeling you kind of have to. He seems to be satisfied by your reaction, but you still sit in front of him dumbfounded.

“Aren’t we suppose to practice?” you ask him, watching him stuffing his mouth with fried chicken.

“We will, after we ate.” he answers with full mouth and chews on it. Is he serious right now? What’s going on? He continues eating for a few seconds, before he notices your frozen state. You’re holding chopsticks still in its plastic bag, your eyes focused on the food before you. Your stomach hurts, because fuck, you’re hungry. You really are. But your mother’s constant nagging and voice fills your mind and your stop yourself, before you can taste delicious food.

“I’m not hungry.” you mumble with a gulp followed right after, before you toss the chopsticks on the floor.

You don’t see Hoseok’s eyes frowning at you, staring at you as he swallows the food and exhales a big sigh. “You’re so skinny.” he almost barks when he feels the anger inside of him. Is she fucking dumb? he thinks when he glares at you.

“What?” You’re shocked by his reaction, noticing the way he glares at you and locks his jaw.

“You’re too skinny, you should eat.”

The first thing what washes over you is surprise, but the next thing you do is let out a loud snort, not even caring how unattractive that just was. Hoseok looks at you with slightly doe eyes, not getting what just amused you.

“Yeah, right,” you chuckle again, looking away from his curious eyes. But he doesn’t budge and you’re kind of forced to gaze up to be met with his burning eyes. He lifts his one brow, not hidden by his usual bangs. “Is this skinny for you?” you ask him, pinching your stomach fat with your fingers underneath your loose shirt.

You’re so fucking self-conscious right now, even though you’re showing him your fat through your shirt, but the simple fact that you’re even showing him this, is making you uncomfortable. But you’re not letting it show on your solid face, showing nothing else than flatness on your face. You don’t know what’s racing through Hoseok mind, because he hides it perfectly under his nonchalant features.

He sighs, taking a bite from his chicken. “Just eat.” He grumbles with full mouth and you frown, simply sitting there while watching him chewing the soft flesh.

When you don’t eat as he requested he looks up, small crumble in the corner of his lips cutely sitting there, as he frowns. “I’m not hungry.” you lie straight through your teeth, avoiding the big take-out he ordered. It smells freaking delicious and looks probably even better, but you can’t look at it. You’d salivate right after.

“Am I complete fucking idiot for you?” His loud voice booms through the empty practice room, making his voice echoing slightly causing you to flinch. You definitely wasn’t expecting this reaction and definitely not the venom in his voice.

“Yes.” you answer before you can stop yourself, regretting it right after his voice darken. You just couldn't help it. Despite your doe eyes and puppy like expression you still manage to be savage, making Hoseok even more irritated with you.

He harshly wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, looking at you with so much hatred that you start to feel intimidated. Not scared that he would do something to you, but scared of what his next reaction will be. Hoseok can be very harsh with his words, you learned it from the beginning but you're no saint in this. You’re both so irritated with each other, but you’re both still here – in the same room, while he is still your instructor.

“You irritate me so fucking much, I don’t know whether I hate you or fucking despise you.” he spits out, his words digging harshly into your chest.

“Yeah, same.” you spit back, not letting the hurt on your face being shown.

“You’re fucking unbelievable,” he scoffs, his face twisting in disgust and hate. “I’m actually trying to be nice and you’re just being an ungrateful bitch.”

His words cut deep but and you bite the inside of your cheek not to let his words sink in, so your eyes wouldn’t water. You’re awful, you know that. You’re not stupid, at least not stupid enough to notice his concern on the dinner you had with Namjoon and his friends. He heard your mother, he heard how she treats you about your body image, your weight. He even stood up for you in front of her, despite of her intimidating aura – or it’s just you who thinks she’s actually intimidating. He made sure you got home safe while you were pissed drunk, called his friend to take care of her. He did so many nice things to you, but he never told you. He never openly talked about it with you, but it doesn’t change the fact he¨s done all this for you. And you feel ungrateful, just like he called you. But why is he still being an asshole about it? Why can’t you both seem to get along together?

“I never asked you for anything!” you suddenly snap at him, raising your own voice this time. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you let out shaky breath to calm down yourself. “You’re suppose to be my instructor, Hoseok. You’re not supposed to be meddling with my life or eating habits. I’m fine!” you end up screaming loudly, causing his own eyes widen for a split second but the fire in them is back right away.

“You’re not!” he screams and you flinch, completely thrown by it. He was never this loud with you. “You’re not fucking fine! You’re starving yourself because of your mother! I’m your instructor, but I am also a human being who cares about his students, clients, call it whatever! You’re not fine!”

You’re not fine. He repeats it so many times that you can feel the tears threatening to fall from your eyes.

“I–I’m fine!” you try to scream back, but it comes with shaky voice instead and you can’t hold it anymore. Your vision gets blurry and the last thing you see it Hoseok’s softening features and the look of pity he gives you, causing you to abruptly stand up and escape from this freaking humiliating situation.

But Hoseok has other plans. He doesn't let go you so easily. Not when he knows this might be the last time he sees you and you end up hiding in your home, telling him you’re quitting with your dance lessons. Yes, he’s irritated with you, probably the most he’s ever been with someone in his entire life. But the kindness in his heart wouldn’t allow him to.

You’re stooped and twisted right away, bumping into his chest as you quickly wipe your eyes with your free hand, the one which isn't grabbed by Hoseok’s long fingers.

“Y/N,” he calls out your name so softly, that it almost has calming effect on you. Your eyes set on his surprisingly clean Adidas trainers. “Look at me.” he says, nudging your chin with his free hand. You slightly roll your eyes, but you listen to him to your own and Hoseok’s surprise.

“It’s okay to admit that you’re not fine,” he says, not letting you go. He knows the second he lets you go, you will took off.

“What are you? A therapist?” you scoff, not letting his soft behaviour to affect you. At least not visibly.

“Stop being so rude, I’m trying to be nice.” It doesn’t come bitter from him, making you feel like the biggest asshole when you see and hear nothing than plea.

But that’s it. It would be easier for you to leave if he was just an asshole to you. You feel uncomfortable and embarrassed by your previous behaviour. He has seen a different side of you, a different side no one has ever seen. And you hate the fact it’s Hoseok.

“What do you want me to say? I’m not fine, okay? I-I’ve my own insecurities, mainly caused by my mother. Is that what you want to hear? I’m pathetic.” Despite of the lump in your throat, your voice remain strong.

“You’re not pathetic,” he says softly, his thumb caressing your skin slightly, but he still holds you tightly in his grasp. And surprisingly, you’re not pulling away. You stand there, looking into his brown eyes as they stare at you with pity and sorrow. “You shouldn't listen to your mother.”

At this, you bitterly chuckle at the mention of her again. “She’s my mother. I can’t really avoid her.”

You know your mother. As many times you actually tell her that you’re comfortable with your body, she will still keep nagging you about your weight. She doesn’t care what you think. She keeps hurting you, because she is your mother after all. She is supposed to make sure you’re loved no matter what, instead you’re entitled to fit her image of perfect daughter.

“That doesn't mean you can’t stand up to her.” he says gently, making it sound so easy and letting you feel pathetic. You know all of this. But why can’t you do it? You feel awfully weak and it’s even worse since it’s in front of Hoseok.

You’re opening your mouth to say something, but you’re cut off by the door slamming open, revealing Jungkook standing there. He grins with his bunny teeth which you would find adorable, if this was a different situation.

“Yo, I smelled food so I came to visit. What do we have here?” he hums, already striding to the both of you, or to the delicious food laying on the floor, with the same huge grin. But the grin falls down as soon as his eyes flicker to your flushed face and watery eyes. He sees Hoseok holding you and he freezes on his spot.

“What did you do to her?” he asks, looking at Hoseok who seems to be taken back for a second by the little assumption.

Hoseok doesn’t react with words, slowly letting you go, his warmth disappearing from your skin and it oddly lets you feel empty.

“He didn't do anything.” you speak up, your voice awfully raspy and you quickly cough to get rid of it.

Jungkook frowns, his long hair falling to his eyes but he doesn’t move to brush them away, simply watching the whole situation in front of him. He knows something isn't right from the way you both act, he just can’t put his finger on it.

“Can we reschedule this?” you ask quietly, eyes flickering to Hoseok’s which hold some emotion behind them, you just don’t know what kind of emotion that is.

Hoseok breathes out, almost like a sigh of relief, before he opens his heart shaped lips. “Of course.” he says softly, before you nod and don’t waste any more time to snatch your things, while walking out of the practice room quickly. You’re pretty aware of the two pair of eyes watching you, until you’re hidden by the door which slams closed.

“Before you snap at me, I thought you still have some free time.” Jungkook speaks up in hope to ease the tension on his friend’s face by joking, which isn’t complete false. He really smelled delicious chicken and he just had to visit and annoy his friend before his training starts.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now.” Hoseok grumbles under his nose, before he turns away and sits on his previous spot. This time he leans against the wall and sighs while closing his eyes.

Jungkook simply watches him while sitting not so far away from him. “What was that about? She seemed upset...” Jungkook says carefully, knowing Hoseok is in his weird phase between fuming and feeling sad.

For a few years he knows Hoseok, he has never seen him being so tense and just not like himself like for the past weeks. Jungkook doesn’t want to assume anything, because Hoseok isn’t the type to bribe about his problems or personal stuff, unless it’s something positive and extremely happy, but he thinks it has something to do with you. He has never seen him being so hard on someone, until you came. For some reason, Hoseok doesn’t seem to like you.

And just like he thought, Hoseok’s eyes snap open to glare at Jungkook. He wants to explain him, that it wasn't entirely his fault. He just wanted to do the right thing. No matter what he feels towards you, no matter how annoying you seem to him, he can’t let you starve and destroying your whole life. Not when he did the same thing a few years ago. But he didn’t have anyone to save him, to tell him that there is another solution to that. You’re his student and he can’t bare to watch you being so weak and exhausted by not taking care of yourself. And he feels angry because of that, because you’re an adult. You’re suppose to take care of yourself. So naturally, he wants to tell Jungkook that this time he just tried to be Hoseok they all know. He still feels hurt by Jungkook’s assumption. What did you do to her? It hurt hearing it from his friend, but he partly deserved it. He didn’t treat you right. But instead of explaining it to Jungkook, he keeps his mouth shut. He could easily make him look like the good guy tried to be, be he doesn’t. He won’t tell about your personal business to him. The hell, even Hoseok doesn’t feel like he should know such a private thing. How did he even meet your mother? Right, he came to your place. He already seems to be too invested in your life to go back to normal and it bothers him, because you’re on his mind. It doesn’t matter that it annoys him and it’s negative.

“Whatever, I don’t wanna talk about it.” Hoseok manages to grumble, putting a distance between him and his friend. Jungkook isn’t stupid, he can see the way he tries to distance himself right now. And he knows it’s best to not be too curious about it, so instead, he tries to be there for his friend until he has his own training.

“Come on let’s eat.” he speaks up, already reaching for the chicken just to be met with Hoseok’s deathly glare. That food was supposed to be meant for you. But then he sees the innocent doe eyes with little bit mischievous behind them and he can’t seem to be angry with him.

“You eat, I’m not hungry.” he tells him, leaning his head against the hard wall behind him, staring at the high plain ceiling. He just hopes you will reschedule the practice.

“Why are you being so quiet?!” you exclaim, your voice cracking at the end from how long you've been talking.

Namjoon’s eyes flicker to yours, sighing as he tiredly scratches the back of his head. You called him as soon as you bursted from the building and away from Hoseok, in desperate need to talk to your best friend. But he partied last night so he deals with the biggest hungover in his short adult life, listening to your hour blabbering about Hoseok meddling with your personal life.

“I’m trying to be your best friend right now.” he speaks, his own voice hoarse and even the tea you made him, with too much sugar isn’t helping. But he doesn’t mention it when he sees the fire in your eyes. You can be scary.

“By being quiet?” you ask him, getting frustrated with him as he didn’t mutter a single word ever since you started to talk.

“No, by not saying something you won’t like.”

It’s like a slap to your face as you stutter over your words. “W-what do you mean by that?”

Namjoon knows about your mother and how persistent she can get, he also knows about the pressure she puts on you. Maybe not everything, but he kind of understands the situation and your relationship between you and her. You also conceal the fact that you stopped properly eating to get rid of some weight. He doesn’t need to know that – not when you have an idea of what might his reaction be.

“It seems to me like he’s just trying to be nice. Is that so hard to believe?” he asks confidently, but still choosing his words carefully. You even see it when his warm eyes how nothing than friendliness and warmness in them. He is not here to fight, but you can’t help to feel slightly irritated by it.

“Yes, it is,” you nod stubbornly seeing Namjoon let out a disappointed sigh. “Why is he suddenly caring about what I think about myself? He is suppose to teach my how to dance, not to care abo--”

“You know, he isn’t such a bad guy and I’m not saying this just because he is Jin’s friend. I got to know him little bit more and he really is friendly. You should give him a chance and be nice as well.” he cuts you off, not really in the rude way but you still open your mouth in shock.

You feel weird. Maybe it’s because Namjoon always took your side, no matter what. And now he says the complete opposite, not agreeing with you and it hurts and angers you at the same time. Maybe it’s because he is basically taking Hoseok’s side. Just another reason to feel irritated with your dance instructor.

“I will be nice, once he starts to meddling with my personal life.” you mutter and Namjoon groans.

“Goddamit, you’re so stubborn!” Namjoon exclaims suddenly causing you to flinch and his own eyes widen before he sighs in exhaustion. “I get what you’re talking about. But instead of focusing how he shouldn’t do it, just appreciate it.”

Ungrateful bitch. That’s how Hoseok called you and that’s how you feel at the moment.

When Namjoon leaves to go back to sleep off his hangover, saying goodbye with a warm hug nevertheless of what he said to you, you fish out your phone from your bag.

Hoseok’s name stares at you almost mockingly, challenging you of your next moves.

“hey are you free today or someday?”

You send it quickly before you can properly regret it, cringing at the words. He doesn't text back even after an hour you keep checking your phone, waiting for a reply. He probably has other classes to deal with other than your single pitiful message.

You’re mindlessly cutting an apple, your stomach growling almost as if it is angry for you to eat it again when your phone vibrates with notification. Putting down the knife, you wipe your wet hands into the kitchen cloth on the counter. Your eyes almost fall out when you see Hoseok’s name on your screen.

“I just finished, what’s up?”

There is no anger or too intense emotion behind his message. But why does your heart keep beating so fast?

“I thought we could meet up to talk” you answer back, praying you don’t sound too desperate.

“yeah sure”

Two words but you screech like some hormonal teenager, causing you to shut your mouth right after. What the fuck was that?

“can you come to my place?”

You don’t know why you just suggested that but you came to conclusion you should apologise for your previous behaviour and attitude towards him. It wasn’t fair from you and even if you won’t admit it loudly, there was some truth to his words. He was partly right, you know that. Where else you should apologise? You feel like you need to do it as soon as possible, in case you will change your mind and you will back out like a coward. And what is the better way than to do it in the comfort of your own home? Plus he's been already here, it doesn’t matter.

“yeah on my way”

He replies and you hurry to tidy your messy clothes on the floor, just to throw it mindlessly into your closet. You spray some air freshener with strawberry scent just to feel better when he comes in. What if it stinks here and you can’t smell it?

You can’t even eat the freaking apple which sits on your kitchen counter, the nervousness scrunching your stomach as you impatiently wait for Hoseok’s arrival. You have no idea how much does it takes him to knock on your door, even though you just spent your time eyeing the clock. But when you hear the soft knock on your front door, you jump on your spot trying to straighten up your plain shirt and red sweatpants you’re wearing the whole day. Great, you could at least put something more presentable on yourself, but it doesn’t matter now. Why the hell you even care how you look in front of him? He saw your red flushed and ugly face today, it’s not like a nice outfit will change his opinion about you.

Shaking your head at ridiculous thoughts going on in your head, you go to answer your door. You straighten your hair as well and clothes for the last time, before you open it revealing Hoseok. He looks up, straight into your eyes and you’re speechless. He wears the same grey sweatpants with loose black shirt while some of the strands of his hair are wet. His cologne fills your nose and it’s like another slap back to reality.

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to shower. Came straight from the practice.” he apologises, shifting on his feet slightly with his sport bag draped over his shoulder.

Was he rushing to your place? No, no, don’t overthink this.

“It’s fine, you don’t smell.” you tell him with a wave of your hand but quickly widen your eyes at what you just said. He chuckles, he freaking chuckles at that and you blush looking down.

“I hope so, I think I used the whole bottle of my cologne.” he jokes and you look up to be met with his grin.

Is this how it feels like to be on Hoseok’s good side? It’s not like you are, but he still grins at you. That’s a win, right?

“Come in.” you take a step back and open the door more to him, so he can step in. He does, putting his sport bag on the floor before he carefully shifts his eyes to you, almost as if asking if it’s alright. And he probably does when he hesitantly lets go of the strap on his bag and you snort.

“You can put it there, it’s not like I’m gonna bite you.” You’re the one who chuckles now, but still put a strand of hair behind your ear nervously.

Fuck. Why are you so nervous?

“Nobody knows with you.” he jokes but still watching you in case you will burst.

It’s suppose to be a joke, you know that, but you still feel bad after hearing it. Are you such a bitch?

“Let’s sit.” you tell him instead and he awkwardly nods, not knowing whether he already crossed a line or not.

You ask him if he wants something to drink but he politely declines, sitting on your sofa. He feels sweaty and uncomfortable, not wanting to stain your coach with potential sweat. But even though he told you he didn’t shower, he still smells so fucking good and maybe you should feel repulsed by it, but he even looks good with dewiness on his skin and hair. Snap out of it, Y/N!

“I bet you were surprised to get a message from me, asking you to meet up.” you chuckle, the air between you two awfully awkward. It’s almost funny how you’re both trying to tolerate and be kind to each other.

“Actually, I was glad,” he speaks up, coughing right after to mask the embarrassment on his voice but you hear it nevertheless. You’re mostly surprised by his sudden confession. “I thought you would disappear and only text me that you’re done.”

You know what he’s talking about. You already done it.

“I want to apologise for my previous behaviour. I shouldn't have been so ungrateful because you were right. I was ungrateful bitch--” he opens his mouth to say something but you motion for him to wait, so he slowly closes it. “That’s why I want to say thank you. Thank you for taking care of me, even when I was blind to it. No matter what we have against each other I-- just thank you.”

Your cheeks are on fire by the end of your small monologue and thankfully, when you look up you see Hoseok giving you a gentle nod. He’s acknowledging your apology.

“I probably shouldn’t have invest in your personal life, that’s just who I am.” he speaks up, his voice surprisingly friendly and gentle.

After that, you both become quiet and just stare at each other. You blink, and then he does, and then you again and you both awkwardly look away from each other.

“Y-yeah, that’s what I wanted. Thank you.” you speak, awkwardly straightening your clothes again.

Hoseok stares at you, probably thinking about how idiotic you look right now, before he stands up and gives you the faintest smile he can muster. “See you next week?” he asks with a slight hope in his voice, but maybe you just imagined it, when you nod. “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

You feel like the meaning behind his words is something much more than just him saying the casual ‘take care’, he actually points at something without saying it and you’re not stupid not to notice it. You both know what he’s talking about.

And with that he simply leaves, any other exchange happening between the two of you even when you gently close the front door after him, his figure slowly disappearing in the hallway.

Your heart beats like you just ran a freaking marathon, but satisfied smile appears on your lips but not before your stomach grumbles, reminding you of its need. So slowly padding to the kitchen, an untouched apple lays there as you eye the cupboard with all the ramen you managed to buy a month ago. You should be embarrassed by the big amount of the packages of ramen. Hesitating you reach for one of them, already putting out a pot to eat it, hurrying when your stomach calls your attention again.

See, Hoseok? I can take care of myself.

“Y/N, seriously?” Hoseok annoyance booms right next to your ear as he pulls away with annoyed sigh, while you can’t hold your giggles.

“It’s not my fault, it tickles!” you exclaim through your giggles which slowly dies when you see the firm line in between his brows. He looks pissed and kinda hot at the same time.

When you both ‘made up’ or whatever that was, you both hoped you would go back to your practices without any bad blood between the two of you. And so far, there isn’t any except for you ruining the dance for the past twenty minutes making Hoseok frustrated.

“This dance is supposed to be danced with passion, it’s supposed to be sexy.” he speaks with nonchalant and slightly irritated tone, but still manages not to raise his voice. You kind of start to feel bad for giggling all the time, not taking this lesson seriously, but it’s not like you can do anything about it. He’s basically tickling you on your stomach and hips! What sexy about that?

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry. It’s just, it tickles.” you chuckle, ending with a small voice which causes Hoseok to soften his features with a low sigh. It’s better to laugh at his ticklish hands on your waist, instead of focusing how good it feels to feel his touch even through the material of your thin shirt. Because originally, you were doing that — getting unfocused because of his skillful hands grabbing your hips, leading your moves — until it started to get ticklish.

All the hotness you felt, where his hand held you, you ended up squirming in his hold for too many times to get on his nerves. It’s probably better, at least you won’t end up thinking about how hot he makes you feel, the tingling between your legs slowly awaking.

“Come on, let’s do it again.” he lets out that one low sigh that makes you bite your love lip, unconsciously, of course. You release it as soon as you feel the pressure on your lips.

Before you can say anything to that, he already stands behind you. He doesn’t touch you yet, but his breath fanning onto exposed skin of your neck is enough to give away his close proximity. Your insides shudder at that but you manage to keep solid posture.

“This time, no giggling.” he speaks lowly with a hint of strictness — not too much to sound rude, but enough to let you know he’s taking this seriously, as he should. He’s your instructor in the first place.

But when he lowly starts to count as his hands appear on your waist, his scent hitting your nose due to his closeness, your whole body shivers with goosebumps. Fuck. It’s just dance. He doesn’t wait for you to start dancing, leading your hips with his hands. You feel like a fucking lifeless doll in his hold and you’re sure he probably think that as well, so you decide to move your body slightly.

“There you go.” he murmurs, putting some distance between you two so he wouldn’t grind onto you too much. You completely forget the next moves, Hoseok ending up to put your arm up as his fingers start to slowly graze your skin. Fuck, you should’ve worn long sleeve T-shirt. This skin on skin contact isn’t doing you any well. He slowly tugs you, letting you know you should use your body, but it only causes you to stumble and grind onto his soft bludge hidden underneath his Adidas sweatpants.

Gasping, you move too quickly wanting to apologize, ending up elbowing him in the face. You don’t realize it until he groans, backing away from you while holding his brow bone. “Fuck, not again.” he grumbles and you gasp, ready to comfort him but he only shoots you glare. Well, the old Hoseok is back. It took you only one hit to bring him back. You want to laugh at that but you can’t, not when he is giving you that look which indicates he’s pissed off, and when he seems genuinely hurt.

“Fuck, it wasn’t on purpose!” you quickly exclaim, wanting to look at his eye but he only slaps your hands again causing your mouth to fall open in disbelief.

“Why would you react like that?” he mutters under his breath, clearly done with you while still holding his eye.

“You were grinding your dick into me! I was caught off guard!” you exclaim, telling the truth but still cut out that part what he made you feel.

“It was an accident! It’s not like I grind my dick onto you purposely!”

You scoff, a small facade not to show your true emotions, because his words dig into your heart more than you were ready to admit. Of course, he wouldn’t grind his dick onto you. You’re nowhere near his type, he likes his girls skinny and flawless, which unfortunately, you’re not. You know it wasn’t comment about your weight and figure in general, but your insecurity makes you feel self conscious again. It feels worse coming from Hoseok, which you’re quickly irritated about. Since when do you care what he thinks about you?

Maybe it’s because you always cared what others think about you, but you never admitted it.

“Why are you suddenly being so quiet?” he murmurs, your eyes adverting from the floor to his. You spaced out without you realizing. There is something weird, almost like a worry, in his eyes as he scans your face. Fuck, can he read your mind? “I didn’t mean it like--“

”How did you mean it then?” you cut him off, crossing your arms over your chest. Well, confidence is a key, even if it’s a fake one. He’s surprised that you cut him off, and even more by your sudden attitude. You can see it from the way he slightly widens his eyes along with his mouth.

“I didn’t mean it like you’re not pretty or something, because--“ he pauses himself with a gulp. “I mean, you’re not that bad,” you raise your brows and he panics with widening his eyes even more. It’s funny, you’ve never seen him being so caught off guard, and you’re going to enjoy this while it lasts. “I mean--“

“Wow, thanks,” you scoff with sarcastic chuckle and he opens his mouth, gawking at you like a fish. This time, you’re not able to hold back a small snort coming from your lips as your shoulders shake. At first, he thinks you’re crying but then he notices your crinkled eyes as you start laughing. “Calm down, I’m not a cry baby.”

He frowns, not appreciating the small prank you just did on him. He was genuinely concerned that he made you cry, although, he used to be way more rude to you. It was weird that you’d start to cry at that. But he doesn’t voice his thoughts, not admitting loudly and definitely not to you, that he was started to get concerned.

“Dude, I have never seen you being so caught off guard.” Your laugh has calmed down, but you still can’t help to chuckle every now and then.

“Don’t call me dude,” he murmurs, rolling his eyes off. “I thought you got mad at me.”

You’d react somehow, but you notice him not holding his eye anymore and you quickly go to inspect it. “There isn’t even anything,” You tell him but he smacks his lips in annoyance, almost letting a growl at you and you raise your brow. “It looks like I’m not the one who’s crybaby.” you sign out and he groans.

“You’re annoying, woman.” he murmurs under his breath and you give him a grin, as you go to drink some water.

He watches you grinning at him, this time he’s not able to hold a small smile tugging the corners of his mouth upwards.

#bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jung hoseok #jung hoseok au #hoseok smut #jhope au #hoseok x reader #jhope x reader #bts scenarios #bts requests #personasintro #hope world #dancer!hoseok #bts au

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peraltasames · 5 years ago

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your love’s put me at the top of the world

He’s beyond relieved that he made it back in time, but even more relieved when Amy lets out one final cry of agony and everything falls silent for a split second before the unmistakable cries of a newborn fill the room.

That’s his son. His son is here.

prompt: 💐 - buying each other flowers

read on ao3

There’s never been any doubt in Jake’s mind that Amy is a superhero.

Her first month at the Nine-Nine, he saw her tackle a perp twice her size without breaking a sweat. It was both awesome and insanely hot, though Jake suppressed those feelings as quickly as they arose when she yelled at him to cuff the 250-pound man she just smacked down on the pavement.

She’s saved his life multiple times, whether it be by always having his back in the field or shooting him in the leg in the thick humidity of the worst state in America (he wasn’t overly fond of the latter, but he was very appreciative of avoiding a bullet in the head).

She’s had more emotional endurance than anyone Jake knows, remaining his steady guidepost during his time in WitSec and his prison sentence and everything else life has thrown at them, even when he knew it was just as hard for her. Her strength and hope never wavered during the long months of failed attempts at getting pregnant.

Still, despite all this, he’s never been more in awe of her than he is seeing her give birth to their son, in the damn precinct, without any painkillers. She’s glowing, an absolute vision of beauty, but he knows better than to tell her that while she’s swearing like a sailor and squeezing his hand so hard he thinks she might break it.

That’s his son. His son is here.

Of course, more chaos ensues after that - he’s pretty sure they had enough chaos for a lifetime tonight, but they’ve also had a lot of crazy days that have made for good stories, so he decides he can handle a little chaos as long as his wife and their little boy are okay.

There’s an ambulance ride and several tests run by several different doctors. There’s the entire squad visiting and the reveal of their son’s name - Mac Peralta, after John McClane, of course. There’s Roger and Victor arguing over what Mac’s middle name should be (even though they decided on Raymond weeks ago to avoid upsetting either of their fathers) while Camila and Karen fawn over Amy and the baby.

Eventually, there’s just the three of them again. Amy falls asleep soon after, very understandably considering all her body’s been through over the past few hours, and Mac is happily dozing in the bassinet next to her bed.

Jake’s in the midst of responding to a dozen text messages and trying to wrap his head around the fact that he’s really a father when his stomach starts to grumble, a casual reminder that he hasn’t eaten since lunch and it’s nearly two in the morning.

“Detective Peralta, you’re free to go grab food or coffee.”

The nurse standing next to the bassinet, monitoring Mac’s vitals, seems to have read Jake’s mind. He would kill for even a bag of chips from a vending machine right now, but he also really doesn’t want to leave the baby unattended while Amy’s sleeping.

“We’re keeping a close eye on your son and your wife, so there’s no reason to worry.”

He’s got half a mind to try to recruit her as a detective with the mind-reading capabilities she’s got going on (although it’s possible his instinctual need to protect Amy and their baby really is just that transparent) but he simply nods in appreciation and bends down to kiss Amy’s forehead before slipping out the door.

He’s determined to make it as quick of a mission as possible, eager to return to the room, so he makes a very Amy-esque list in his head: food, coffee, something more comfortable and clean to sleep in.

He knocks off the first two very quickly with a cold sandwich and a cup of stale but decently warm coffee from the cafeteria. It’s certainly not a Charles-approved meal, but he’s still riding on such a high that it tastes like the elixir of the gods right now.

The gift shop fulfills his need for comfortable clothing - sweatpants with the New York Presbyterian logo and an I ❤️ NY hoodie. It also offers a wide selection of stuffed animals, and even though they already have way too many for a newborn to appreciate at home from Amy’s baby shower, he can’t resist grabbing a tiny teddy bear that says I love my mom.

That’s all he intends to buy, but the bouquets of flowers positioned conveniently near the checkout catch his eye immediately. He does have a more significant push present for Amy planned, a signed copy of Marie Kondo’s new book that Gina managed to score for him accompanied by two tickets to Hamilton and reservations at a very fancy restaurant in Midtown four months from now. He really feels like his wife having just undergone tremendous pain and physical exertion to bring their baby into the world means she deserves something now, though, so he carefully peruses the selection.

“New dad?” the lady behind the cash register asks, smiling at him.

Jake nods proudly, glancing briefly at the teddy bear in his arms. “As of like three hours ago, yeah.”

“Go for the gardenias. They symbolize joy, your wife will love them.”

Jake has to read the little tags to identify which ones are gardenias, but he’s pleased that they’re the pretty white and yellow bouquet in a small white vase that his eyes were first drawn to.

“Thank you,” Jake smiles, quickly swiping his credit card and gathering his purchases.

He carefully creeps back into the dark room so he doesn’t accidentally wake Amy or Mac, who he pauses to stare at in awe for another long moment before going to the bathroom to change. After tossing his dirty clothes in Scully’s big hospital bag, he attempts to lightly place the flowers down on the bedside table, but even the slight disruption of the silence causes Amy to stir.

“Sorry, babe,” he winces, setting the teddy bear down next to the bouquet. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“You got me flowers?” Amy smiles, shifting up on her elbows slightly to get a better look. “Jake, they’re beautiful.”

“The lady at the gift shop said they symbolize joy, so...”

His eyes wander to the bassinet, soaking in every second that he can of admiring their very own bundle of joy.

Amy smiles wider, reaching for his hand to pull him towards her. He settles in on the bed beside her, carefully wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“You were so amazing,” he whispers into her hair. It’s not the first time he’s told her that tonight, but he doesn’t think he could ever say those words enough to encapsulate just how in awe of his wife he actually is.

“You’re a pretty good baby daddy,” Amy murmurs into his chest. “I mean, you were literally my knight in shining armour riding in on horseback tonight.” He chuckles, squeezing her tightly. “I’m so glad you made it in time.”

“Me too,” he sighs, pressing kisses to her hairline and temple and cheek.

Amy shifts over slightly, making as much room in the bed as she can for him, and his desire to be close to his wife is overruled by the interest of her being as comfortable and non-crowded as possible.

“Ames, they said they could bring a cot for me. Or I can sleep in the chair, I really don’t mind.”

She frowns, shaking her head. “There’s plenty of room.”

“You just had a baby, I want you to be comfortable.”

“Jake,” she says, more firmly. “Speaking as your wife who just had a baby, I want you to sleep here with me. That’s an order.”

He knows he’s fighting a losing battle, so he kicks off his shoes and climbs under the covers with her. It turns out to be kind of perfect - he has just enough space to comfortably stretch out and, once he’s wrapped his arm around Amy and assumed the big spoon position, he has an unobstructed view of Mac.

“We’re really parents,” Amy sighs happily, lacing her fingers with his.

Jake nods and smiles, his eyes reluctant to close just yet while he absorbs the last moments of the most important day of his life.

He kisses her cheek once more before settling into the pillows and letting his eyelids droop.

“I love you guys so much.”

#it is nearly 4am but enjoy!!!#i am such an emotional mess #b99 fic #jake x amy #b99 spoilers

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almostxinnocent · 4 years ago

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“Society wants to believe it can identify evil people, or bad or harmful people, but it's not practical. There are no stereotypes.” ― Ted Bundy Anyone who knows me also knows that I am a huge fan of true crime. Even knowing that, it has taken me a long time to actually write about this, or maybe just fear at re-living it over again has held me back. I figure if I don’t do it now I never will. It would be easier to simply do this as just another story. So here we go. (Part One)When I was fourteen other girls were reading Teen Beat and I was reading True Crime novels about Ken Bernardo, Jeffrey Dahmer and other serial killers no young girl should know about. So when I stumbled across the address to actually write one of them it was no surprise that I jumped on the chance.

For the sake of privacy and my sanity we will call him Mr. E. A lot of people don’t even know about it but there is a place called J-pay where you can write to inmates and see if they respond. I wanted to ensure a response so I included a couple of pictures of myself. I was fifteen and throwing modesty aside, I thought I was pretty attractive. It had been a few weeks since I had sent my first message and I rushed home each day to see if there was a response. It had become a routine for me. I quickly logged into the website and saw that I actually had a response. I had only written one person and immediately I felt like a ten year old on Christmas morning. I clicked to open it and greedily read what was inside.

“I have to say for a young girl you are not only intelligent, but beautiful as well. I would be more than happy to answer your questions but if I am going to be nice to you, you need to be nice to me too. I have a couple questions of my own.”

I read down further, scrunched my face up at some of the more personal questions like “How often do you bath” or “What does your hair smell like before a good wash” . I knew he was highly intelligent, and I was sure he would smell bullshit from a mile away. I can’t say I wasn’t nervous but it was more nervous excitement. I was going to write my reply, but hesitation got the best of me. I turned the computer off and went to drown myself in another book. When I finally did sleep I was thrown into some pretty intense nightmares. I woke up tired from the lack of good sleep I had gotten and rolled over in bed. It wasn’t unusual to remember my dreams, but this time I would rather not have. All night I had dreams of being visited by Mr. E. They seemed so real that I actually decided I would not write back at all.

After a couple nights of not having any nightmares and scolding myself for being a sissy, I gathered enough courage to write back.

“Mr. E,I would be lying if I said I wasn’t excited to see your response, even if you do ask some pretty weird questions. To show you that I will be an honest pen-pal I will answer them but first I want to ask a couple of my own. Do you ever feel sorry for what you did to the family of your victims? I already know how you feel about the girls that you killed. There are so many books written about you! What is it like not being able to be free anymore? What is your day to day like there? Do you get a lot of fan mail? Do you think I am a fan??”

I went down his list and answered all his questions, providing as little detail as possible. It did give me the creeps to think about a real life serial killer who tortured girls to death so close to my age having knowledge of my personal bathing habits and odors. Sometimes knowing someone is locked up isn’t enough, it’s wondering what they do with their time that can be unsettling. We had been writing for about four months before things started to get even more uncomfortable. Mr. E had always given me the answers that I wanted, although I tended to not ask any graphic details about his murders. Then suddenly he started to give me details on his own, some of them that I had never actually read in any of his books. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t more jumpy than usual or that the contents of his letters were not giving me nightmares. The truth was I had been plagued by them, but I just could not stop responding.

I knew if my mother ever found out what I was doing she would probably take away my computer and everything else that provided contact with anyone in the world, and I think that was putting me on edge as well.I wanted to believe that Mr. E trusted me, but I knew his mail was being read. Since the details were just descriptions of his killing rituals and habits I guess it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he was revealing where more bodies were or anything. His personal questions started to became more intrusive too. The minute I started to feel too uncomfortable, or there was a lapse of response, I would get a kinder letter of assurance which motivated me to keep writing. I was playing a game of cat and mouse but was starting to feel I was more the mouse than cat.

Finally, in one of our conversations he asked for my address. He told me that he had a few drawings and poetry he wanted me to have. In this message he especially made it a point to compliment me and thank me for keeping him company. He told me about how most of the writing he received was from distasteful and rude women (I assumed grown-ups) that he would never consider responding to. I have to admit I was flattered and less uncomfortable but looking back I see I was being manipulated. I gave him my address. I figured being locked up forever would prevent anything bad from happening to me. I was safe, so why not? It was only a few days later that a small package arrived, and I ran upstairs before my mother could see what I had. I opened it carefully, and my heart was pounding so loud it seemed like it was coming from across the room. I almost lost my breath to be completely honest. Here I was, a teenager getting mail from a notorious serial killer! Who would believe it!

Inside the package contained two poems, with what looked like dried blood smeared across them. A lock of hair tied with what looked like some kind of frayed rope and three drawings. One of the poems went as follows; “Her lips looked like two berries. I knew I had to touch but my touch was so heavy off her face the lips I plucked I kissed the bloody space where they once used to be a beautiful and gaping hole but then she tried to flee I wrapped her up in ribbons I tied them like a bow Her mouth kept making noises So the hole I had to sew” I am sure you get the picture. In my young mind I wasn’t sure what to think, but I guess I thought it was to be expected. I wondered if there were any rules about what you could send someone so young, but then again I had never mentioned my age. I had only sent photos since you had to be eighteen to use the website. We had made an agreement that when his arrived, I would send my own. That night my nightmares were so intense that I woke sweating and feeling trapped. The next morning I cut off a lock of my own hair, pricked my finger and smeared some blood across it. I can’t explain how or why but Mr. E had some kind of hold on me. At this point you might be wondering what kind of laws they had back then about what you could or could not send into prison. I didn’t realize that we lived in a world with such liberties or restrictions. I was in a state of being embarrassed about my nightmares and thinking I was some hot shot getting details nobody else had gotten. Two more weeks went by and I did not hear from my pen-pal. I was confused and constantly checking my inbox. I wondered if what I sent had gotten him into some kind of trouble, but was more worried my mom might find out if someone from the prison contacted us. Then a week or so later, another box appeared and I once again ran upstairs to open it. I was lucky that the mail was there when I came home from school. I did not want to have to deal with a confrontation with my mom about strange boxes at our front door. I opened the box and was immediately confused. What I saw put goosebumps all over my body, not just my arms. It was almost painful. There was only a letter, and the box was too big for just a letter. That was strange enough. The letter was short itself was short. “I hope you are as excited as I am. It won’t be long now.” The more I thought about it, the less scared I was. I was actually angry. I felt like I had been betrayed. Then I realized how ridiculous that was. Why would I expect honesty from a serial killer? I bet this was his new way of getting his kicks now that he was locked up. I went to my computer and was ready to write a bunch of insults but when I got to the web page it would not load. That happened a lot, so I decided to just cut my losses and move on. I was embarrassed that I had been such an easy target, so even weeks later I never told my friends and obviously not my mother.One night I was out with my best friend and we went to our favorite spot, the playground. Yeah, I know. Juvenile, but it was the best place at night because it was private and nobody bothered you. After the usual talk about boys at school, and general gossip we decided it was time to head home. My mother was almost always gone on the weekends, and it happened to be the weekend my little brother and sister weren’t at home with me either. I tried to convince Lilly to spend the night but she said her dad would freak out since she basically spent every weekend at my house anyways. This meant flicking through television channels until I got frustrated enough to read a book and then go to sleep.My walk back home was short but it seemed like the perfect time for my mind to start thinking about Mr. E. It bothered me that I was so foolish and even though I knew I had nothing to be scared of I still felt a little jumpy when I was turning the corner onto my street. I finally got home and shut and locked the door and let out a deep sigh. It felt like I had been holding my breath. I had to laugh at myself as I walked upstairs to start a boring routine of spending a Saturday night alone. My little yorkie Koby was running around my legs wagging his stub tail excitedly. I picked him up and opened my bedroom door. “Hello pal, I told you it wouldn’t be much longer.” I felt dizzy and nauseous at the same time but I could not move. It felt like the entire room tilted. I stood there trying to process what was happening. He made no attempt to move from the bed. He was holding one of my stuffed animals in his hands. I kept telling myself this wasn’t real, it was another dream. This wasn’t him. This was not happening. This wasn’t him. The voice inside my head became more frantic and I put my hands on both my ears. I felt like I was losing my mind because there could not possibly be a man sitting on my bed, holding my stuffed animal. “Don’t be upset, I know I’m not who you are looking for but I promise I can give you much more than some man stuck in a cell could anyway. We have so much to talk about. I knew you were the one when you sent that hair back to me. I said to myself, here is a girl who isn’t afraid to do things out of the ordinary.” His voice was vibrating though me. I knew my only way to get out of this would be to either do what he said, or make him think I would. At the same time that thought was going through my head I also realized there was no way I was going to talk my way out of this. This wasn’t Mr. E, and this wasn’t a nightmare. I could tell this man was very tall from the height of him simply sitting there. His black hair was straight. He looked ordinary. He didn’t look like a monster at all. “How?....” I barely said the words as if speaking too loud might cause him to do something. “Well, I could insult your intelligence for not making sure the website you were using was actually the real website, but most of you young ones usually don’t bother. Let’s just say you were never writing to who you thought you were and start fresh.” All the terrible details from his letter came back to me. The way he stalked the girls, kidnapped them and then held for days while they were tortured. Like dolls, he played with them until they were no longer breathing.

“I thought I could trust you.” I whispered, still frozen in my place. I could attempt to run but he would just catch me on the stairs as I tried to go down. There wasn’t any feasible way to get away.

“Oh you can trust me. I never lied to you did I? Now come over here and sit on my lap and I will tell you all the fun things we will do together. I know you like the park, did you want to go back and swing on the swings again? You looked so fresh with your skirt flying up your legs.”

I shook my head and back into my doorway which was at the exact moment that he lunged at me. The fact that he had been watching me made me feel violated enough. I didn’t even bother to take time to think about how long he had been watching me but now assumed it was from the moment I sent him my actual address.

I let out a startled yelp as we both landed on the ground. He was quick and before I knew it he had my arms over my head was straddling me. He leaned down for a kiss but I kept twisting my head back and forth with tears streaming down my face. “Please don’t let him kiss me, please.” I begged God inside my mind to make it go away.

The next thing I knew he slapped me so hard across my face that I was seeing everything in two’s with blurred lines. I was no longer frantically twisting, but slowly going back and forth, still reeling from the hand that had rocked me. I was so dazed I could barely feel his mouth drooling on mine until he sharply bit down on my lip. It was so hard I came out of my daze screaming as loudly as I could before he clamped his hand over my lips and shook his head.

“There will be plenty of time for that.”

#serial killers #writing #short stories #horror #scary #true crime #true crime stories #goosebumps #stalkers #teenage #nightmare #nightmares #jeffrey dahmer #ted bundy #paul bernardo #kidnapping #scary stories #horror stories

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flamingodingo · 4 years ago

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Merlin- S1:E1- The Dragon’s Call

Hey so I decided to rewatch Merlin because I never quite finished it and don’t remember what happened enough to pick up where I left off, and I thought I’d blog my thoughts about it! All I really remember, besides the obvious, is how remarkably shippable Arthur and Merlin were despite that clearly not being the writers intention. I have a feeling I’ll come to the same conclusion with this rewatch, especially since I’m starting out with my gay goggles on, but who knows?? Let’s gooooooooooooooooo

**obv this will not be spoiler free but A. The show has been over for a long time and B. all spoilers will be under the cut**

Hey so now that I’ve done this, I’d decided I don’t want to continue because I simply don’t care that much about this show. So, sorry if you enjoyed this, don’t expect any more.

Colin Morgan is honestly the most adorable little nugget of a man <3

Ok this CGI effect for the reveal of the kingdom is .... not good actually ....

The score, however, is gorgeous. I mean we all know the main theme is a bop but just listen to the music as he looks around here, it’s so grand and fantastic.

All of this video quality is actually just not great, when the heck is this from again? *googles* It aired in 2008. I feel like 2008 TV looked better than this but I was also only 10 so what do I know.

I love Uther’s style of crown. It’s very simple and dignified.

I truly can’t imagine why people would choose to attend an execution. Like, what compels someone to go witness something like that? I know the past was boring, what with the lack of television and the illiteracy of the general population, but how do you get so bored you go watch someone get beheaded for a bogus crime like “conspiracy to use magic”?

LMAO these effects are corny as hell actually- re: sorceress disappearing in the wind.

What a weird welcome to Camelot for Merlin.

I like how Gaius just interrogates this stranger in his house about his magical ability with no idea whatsoever who he is.

Gaius is like a million years old and he still has a better hairline than me, honestly how rude.

Loving Morgana’s willingness to tell off Uther.

Uther says Morgana wasn’t around 20 years ago, how old is she supposed to be?

Traveling in the past must have been fucking terrifying. Even with guards, I can’t imagine just pitching a tent in the middle of the woods on my way to wherever and sleeping peacefully. If you’re out there traveling, who knows who else might be?

It’s so incredible how far we’ve come with special affects. That sorceress melting into the singer lady must’ve been relatively impressive when this aired and now I just chuckled at it.

Arthur is such a dick and I hate it but fuck he’s so handsome.

Merlin is such a good boy to stand up to Arthur. I mean, even not knowing he’s the prince, that’s still a pretty bold thing to do to someone who is obviously still wealthier and more powerful than you, particularly when he has a whole gaggle of idiots to support him and he’s just proven he knows his way around a weapon.

“Do you know how to walk on your knees?” “No.” “Would you like me to help you?” “I wouldn’t if I were you.” “Why? What are you going to do to me?” “You have no idea.” Who wrote these lines and then let them say them so remarkably homosexually? Like really, truly, who watched them act this scene and went “Ah yes, this tension is exactly perfect and does not feel at all sexual”?

Do you think Uther knows his son is a gigantic asshole? Like, do you think if he found out Arthur had Merlin thrown in jail just for calling him an ass, he would have had him freed because “well he’s right, you know”? Probably not.

Gwen is so incredibly beautiful <3 And she’s kind, too. What a lady, I love her.

Interesting, the actors are saying Guinevere, but the subtitles are saying Gwenhwyfer.

I can see how throwing food at people in the stocks would be fun, actually, especially if it’s like someone who pickpocketed you.

Choosing to keep one dragon “as an example” is basically asking for someone to come free that dragon. It is immensely hubristic to assume that nothing would go wrong with that.

Ok I know that doll in “Lady Helen’s” room is kind of sketchy but especially as someone who doesn’t know anything about the materials required for magic, I have no idea what prompts Merlin to start going through her stuff.

“Lady Helen’s” purple dress really does something for me. That’s a great cut and color, thought tbh the material looks kinda cheap.

I love Merlin’s little neck scarf thing. Maybe I should get one of them. It’d look exceptionally queer on me.

Alright so that bit earlier with the blind man was questionable but this whole “deaf as well as dumb” comment really isn’t necessary. I know Arthur is an asshole and also it’s 2008 so I don’t really expect better, it’s just still gross. We’ve taken some big steps in the US re: LGBTQ+ folks and recently there has been a surge in the push for racial justice, I hope the next movement that gets some extra traction is disability rights. So much ableism is embedded in our language, culture, and comedy and it’s really not ok. We have a lot of work to do.

“I could take you apart with one blow.” “I could take you apart with less than that.” THIS IS VERY GAY IM SORRY IT IS JUST INCREDIBLY GAY

I have no idea where Merlin got all his audacity but I really enjoy it. Like, “How long have you been training to be a prat, my lord?”? That’s gold.

“There’s something about you, Merlin. I can’t quite put my finger on it.” THIS IS ALSO QUITE GAY

Merlin is SO dramatic, how old is he supposed to be?

I mean his dramatics are a bit, uh, dramatic, but he really is just sweet and lost and scared. I can’t imagine having all that power, totally effortlessly, and not having any idea why but knowing I can’t use it.

Merlin sleeps in a room, but Gaius sleeps in the middle of his workshop. so, did Gaius give up his room to Merlin could have one? That’d be incredibly sweet.

There is a candle burning on Gaius’ nightstand while he sleeps. That’s a fire hazard?

Why the fuck was the gate to get down to the dragon open??????

I’m so distracted by the quality of these special effects. They’re not like truly horrible but they’re not quite good yet either and I think it’s the inbetween state here that’s getting me.

Merlin has this habit of entering rooms really quietly and it really seems to be how he gets himself into trouble quite often.

While I am on the Arthur/Merlin train 100%, I see and respect Gwen/Merlin shippers. They’re both horrendously awkward, it’s very funny.

Morgana’s dress is so hot.

“Lady Helen’s” dress is fugly

I wonder what language this song is in.

This lip synching is really bad omg

Imagine being so out of touch that you think making someone your son’s servant is a reward. Like I get that working in the royal household is an honor or whatever but he’s still literally a servant

Ok but how is calling Arthur Merlin’s destiny NOT gay? I mean come on.

#merlin #merlin liveblog #tw capital punishment #Merlin S1:E1 #Merlin: The Dragon's Call #TW ableist language #real life

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stars-and-rose · 6 years ago

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What is this feeling?(hint, it’s not loathing)

First things first: I am working on the superhero au! I'm about 3k words in the first chapter. But I found @thelowlysatsuma 's prompt-thingy, and well, I have the impulse control of a chicken nugget.

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: Prinxiety, Logicality if you squint

Summary: Even since Virgil moved into his new apartment, he's heard his next-door neighbor sing Broadway songs. Then, he does the unspeakable- he joins in on his neighbor's duet.

Word Count: 1,559

Trigger Warnings: Cursing

Virgil threw the door to his apartment open, tossing off his bag as he shut the door behind him. His apartment still smelled like cinnamon, a nod to the previous owner. Virgil has just moved into the apartment a few weeks back, and the smell still hadn’t faded.

Oh well. It could have been worse.

Virgil picked up the bag from the floor, taking out the new paintbrushes he’d bought, along with a few new watercolors. Things were looking up for him, honestly- he was so glad he took up his brother's offer.

Virgil's older brother and his newly wedded husband had opened up their own bookstore and needed at least one other employee to help run the place before opening. Virgil had agreed to take the position and had moved cross country to New York City to help them open. The place had become a booming success (Virgil swore it was because his brother-in-law sold his baked goods at the store along with the books), and that led Virgil to be able to replace some of his older supplies and buy some new ones as well.

The dark-haired boy slipped off his work-shirt and settled into an old sweatshirt that was already decorated with paint stains. Brushing off old papers and a bottle of black nail polish (which reminded him that he needed to repaint his chipping nails) from his desk, Virgil grabbed a fresh piece of paper and started sketching his latest commission.

Then he heard the singing.

Even though Virgil had lived in the apartment for a few weeks now, he still hadn’t met any other his neighbors. However, the owner of the apartment on his left had made his presence known. Virgil hadn’t met him face-to-face, but he’d heard the man sing. At least once a day, Virgil’s neighbor burst into song, singing Broadway show tunes as he did whatever he was doing, and the apartment walls didn’t do much to mute the sound. Virgil would have complained, but his neighbor was a crazy talented singer. Who was Virgil to deny himself a free concert?

Today, the man was singing a song Virgil knew well. His senior year in high school, the school performed the show Wicked, and the president of the drama club had practically begged Virgil to paint the sets. Virgil had agreed and often painted while the cast was practicing. The songs had ingrained themselves into Virgil's head, and he could remember them word for word to this day.

Including "What is this Feeling?" which was what his neighbor was belting out.

The man was currently singing, "Unusually and exceedingly peculiar

And altogether quite impossible to describe..."

As the other man held out Galinda's line, Virgil couldn't help himself. He sang Elphaba's response, "Blonde."

Virgil heard a sharp intake of breath on the other side of the wall. Oh shit, had Virgil ruined the other man's song? Then, he heard the man continue, "What is this Feeling, So sudden and new?"

Well, Virgil was obligated now. He dropped his pencil and looked at the wall between him and his surprise new duet partner. "I felt the moment, I laid eyes on you."

"My pulse is rushing!"

"My head is reeling!"

"My face is flushing!"

"What is this feeling?" Virgil's voice mixed with his neighbor's, and to Virgil's surprise, they actually sounded good together.

"Fervid as a Flame, Does it have a name?

Yes! Loathing! Unadulterated Loathing!"

"For your face!" Virgil could practically hear the smile in the other's voice.

"Your voice." Virgil couldn't help but let a grin of his own form on his face as he responses

"Your clothing!" Virgil joined back in, singing along to his partner's "Let's just say, I loathe it all!"

The two continued the song, Virgil singing Elphaba's part and his neighbor singing Galinda's. During the part that required it, they sang in unison on the student's part. There was something magical about the moment, randomly bursting into song like they were actually in a Broadway show themselves.

Then the magic was shattered.

It was right before the climax of the song, and Virgil and his duet partner both went for the higher harmony, Virgil surprising himself by his ability to hit the note. Abruptly, his neighbor stopped singing, and yelled, "Galinda absolutely sings the top harmony on that you bastard!"

Honestly, Virgil was so startled by the sudden change of noise, he didn't even register himself screaming back, "In your dreams asshat!"

Virgil heard loud footsteps echoing from his neighbor's apartment. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. That had been surprisingly fun, but it was over now. Virgil was about to go back to the commission when he heard knocking booming from his door.

Virgil sighed, pushing himself out of his chair. He opened his door, surprised to see a guy bout his age standing there. Just as Virgil was going to ask who the hell the guy was, the stranger waved his phone around, saying, “I have the lyric video pulled up right here, let me in so I can prove you wrong!”

Oh. So he was Virgil neighbor/mystery duet partner.

Virgil, feeling a weird mix of annoyance, self-righteousness, and amusement, shot back, “Come in then, and prepare to eat your words.”

The two of them sat down at Virgil's tiny kitchen table. Virgil's neighbor set his phone between them. As he started the video, both he and Virgil stared at the phone like it was the only thing that mattered. Virgil's apartment was filled with "What is this feeling" for the second time that day.

Both boys kept their attention on the sound, waiting for the exact line in the song. When it came, Virgil triumphantly shouted, "Ha! It's not Galinda, suck it!"

His neighbor crossed his arms. "Well, Elphaba doesn't sing it either so you can eat my ass."

Virgil snorted. "It was the fucking ensemble. We're both dumbasses."

For some reason, that sent the boy across from him to giggles, and soon enough, Virgil was laughing alongside him.

When he finally stopped, Virgil took a moment to study his neighbor. The first thing he noticed was that the guy was freaking blond; the irony was making Virgil want to start laughing again. His neighbor had soft green eyes, and he was definitely wearing eyeliner. And possibly lipgloss, but Virgil was going to resist temptation and avoid staring at the other's lips. The boy's honey skin was dotted with freckles, and he had a pencil thrown half-hazardly behind his ear. A loose red sweatshirt hung off his right shoulder, revealing what Virgil assumed was a tattoo peeking out from under the fabric.

In short, the guy was really fucking hot.

While Virgil was looking over the guy, it seemed the other was doing the same, a faint red brushing against his cheeks. "You know, I never got your name."

"I'm Virgil, you are?"

"The name's Roman." The boy drummed his fingers on the table, displaying his red painted nails. "Now, Virgil... I think there's a three o'clock showing of Wicked this Friday."

Virgil arched an eyebrow and prayed his cheeks didn't heat up, "Are you asking me on a date?"

"I mean, yeah, you're pretty cute and you gotta be an interesting person if you randomly join into a duet, and I'm probably overstepping because I have no idea if you're single or gay, but hey, gotta risk it for the biscuit, right?"

Virgil stared at him and then burst into laughter. The other boy crossed his arms, looking mildly embarrassed. Virgil took a shaky breath, attempting to stop laughing long enough to respond. “How is it humanly possible to talk that fast?"

Roman huffed, "I talk as fast as I think."

"Clearly. But lucky for you, I'm both free on Friday and extremely gay."

Roman visibly brightened; he gave Virgil a smile that could have powered the entirety of New York. "Is that your way of saying yes?"

Virgil shrugged, “My brother says I need to get out more, and luckily for me, a really hot boy just rolled in and asked me out, so yeah, why not?"

The blond continued to beam, leaning over the table and grabbing Virgil's hand. He flinched at the sudden contact, but the other had warm hands, much warmer than Virgil’s own, so Virgil didn't pull away. He was simply stealing Romans heat, that was all.

Then, Virgil almost choked because Roman pulled his hand up to his lips and kissed it like he was a prince out of a fairytale. Virgil's ears flamed as the other boy dropped his hand. "It's settled then. I'll come around at two on Friday?"

By some miracle, Virgil was able to keep himself put together. "Sounds good, Prince Charming."

Wait a hot second, what did he just say?

Roman laughed, but Virgil caught the red on his cheeks becoming more vibrant. He stood, stretching, and grinned at Virgil. "Alright then, see you in two days, My Dark-Eyed Beauty."

And with that, Virgil was alone in his apartment, the door slowly swinging shut. He honestly couldn't move; he just stared down at his hand, at the faint kiss printed there. (It seemed Roman was indeed wearing lip gloss).

"Dark-Eyed Beauty? Nice reference." Virgil muttered, before reaching for his phone. His fingers flew, typing a familiar number. It took two rings for the line to connect. "Lo, holy shit, you aren't going to fucking believe this."

(i highkey want to write a sequel because a) Wicked date!!! sounds adorable, emily write that down. b) cute married couple logicality??? and c) purely so I can describe Virgil the way I described Roman-)

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vannahfanfics · 4 years ago

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Dawn and Dusk Part III

Before you read, here’s Part I and Part II!

Category: Romantic Fluff, Angst

Fandom: Yona of the Dawn

Characters: Yona, Soo-Won

Requested By: Cherryblossom98 (Ao3)

As Yona knelt amongst the fur-lined blankets and feather pillows strewn across the tent floor, she could not help but wonder if she had made the right decision.

Alliance. The word bounced around in her otherwise empty cavern of a skull. Such a simple concept, yet for Yona, it carried enough implications to capsize even the stoutest of packhorses. An alliance with Soo-Won. His name was both titillating and dreadful. It made her skin crawl like a parade of ants marched over it, but also sent a pleasurable shudder traveling up to her spine to the base of her neck. Though it had been so long ago, Yona could recollect their night in the encampment so vividly, as if it had occurred only yesterday. Her body hummed with the ghosts of his hands roaming over her clothes. Her lips burned with the phantasms of his hot mouth and tongue. Her heart raced as his whispers echoed in her ear.

"If not forever, then just for tonight?"

Yona's head rolled on her neck as another tingling tremor rocked her body. Her eyes then snapped open, and she released an affronted gasp. Her nerves ceased their singing as she forced every memory of that night from the forefront of her mind. Screaming irately, she flung one of the throw pillows across the tent. The fabric rippled with the blow, and as it was close to the flap, the entrance fluttered wildly to allow some of the cool evening air to whoosh into the tent and kiss her pink, heated skin.

I am venturing into dangerous, unknown territory, she lamented woefully.

Yona had realized that to discover the hidden secrets and nuances of her country, she would have to do some rooting in Hiryuu Castle- and carefully observe the new king, Soo-Won. Thus, she had proposed an alliance between the Sky Kingdom and the cohort of Celestial Dragons. They were a long way from home, and so after marching all day, the soldiers had thrown up an encampment for them to rest for the night. Yona had been given her own tent at Soo-Won's insistence, pitched several yards from her dragons' and Hak's. She had already seen the shadow of the Thunder Beast flicker over the fabric walls as he stubbornly patrolled the perimeter.

Ironically, or perhaps purposely, Soo-Won's royal tent was also nearby. Yona could see its flags lazily flapping in the wind from the entrance of her tent. The realization that Soo-Won rested within walking distance from her position produced a visceral reaction with her. That dichotomous disbalance she had experienced the last time she had been under Soo-Won's care reignited within her; she had the urge to run to him, to throw herself at him. Yet she also had the desire to wrench up her tent and pitch it as far away from his as she could.

The roiling emotions exhausted Yona. The cushions and comforters embraced her as she sprawled onto them, lying on her back to frown at the pyramidal cloth ceiling. Dusk was descending; she could tell by the red-gold light filtering in through the fibers, and how the glow faded with each passing moment. She fingered the tassels of the embroidered pillow that cushioned her head as nausea twisted her belly into painful knots. Tears prickled in the corners of her eyes. With a woeful sniffle, she rolled onto her side and hugged a pillow to her chest.

Yona wanted to be strong, for her country and her people and her friends. Yet, it was so hard to be strong when the weight of so much responsibility crushed her. During moments like this, when the world and darkness came closing in, Yona would allow herself to brood on this thought: I wish none of this had ever happened. I wish Father were still alive, and Soo-Won was still Soo-Won.

Of course, she knew such wishes were incredibly selfish. Her people had suffered needlessly under her father's reign, and Soo-Won's intentions- regardless of if they were surrounded by murder and secrecy- were to restore the country to peace and prosperity. However, Yona was but a young girl thrust into a world of betrayal, war, and strife. She could only bear so much weight upon her small shoulders until she collapsed. Yona would eventually dry her tears, dust off her kimono, and rise to carry the responsibilities again. Yet, for just a few short moments, she just wanted to be a normal girl allowed to wail her frustrations into the plush of a pillow.

The fabric was surprisingly breathable as she buried her face into it, and shrilly screamed. The fibers muffled the sound, but it accomplished the intended effect. Yona felt the tension melt from her muscles, and the tears stopped flowing as readily. With a petulant sniff, she pulled away to find smudges of water and snot staining the wine-red material. She turned it over to the clean side before laying her head on it, arching her back to stretch her aching spinal and shoulder muscles. Perhaps they were phantom pains from her imaginary load, but they hurt, nonetheless.

Just as Yona was beginning to drift into the twilight of half-sleep, she heard the flap of her tent flutter. She peered through the gloom to see a tall shadowy figure framed by the starlight. In her bleariness, she assumed it to be Hak, and so that was whose name she uttered. Her dawn-red eyes fluttered rapidly as the figure stepped into the tent, and she caught the flash of long, straw-colored hair and kingly white robes.

"No, Yona, it's me."

Yona jerked up as Soo-Won spoke. All traces of weariness flushed from her system as adrenaline gushed into her veins. Holding the pillow to her torso like a shield, she regarded him warily. With the fading light streaming in through the now-open tent flap, she could see a sad frown on his fair features. "You still fear me?" It was an honest question, not laced with the false croons of manipulation. Soo-Won genuinely lamented the idea that Yona feared him.

Pursing her lips, she adjusted herself and rested the pillow on her lap to feign ease. It wasn't that she thought Soo-Won would do her harm; she feared to let her guard down around him, because her old feelings were drudging up again. She had to be careful and sound of mind, lest they swallow her entirely so that she drowned in euphoria and things that she wanted so badly but could never be.

"It's not that. I was nearly asleep; you just frightened me."

"I see." His voice rang hollowly, devoid of emotion. Perhaps he believed her; maybe he didn't. Either way, he crossed the small tent to kneel a respectable distance away yet close enough to reveal familiarity. "I came to see if you had settled in well,” he reported simply. Yona shuffled her legs underneath her to keep her calves from growing numb.

“Yes, indeed. I thank you for your hospitality,” Yona uttered robotically, just reciting the gratuitous words that had been ingrained in her as a child. Soo-Won continued to gaze at her measuredly. His piercing eyes unsettled her deeply, causing her to fidget and squirm relentlessly. Her skin flushed, and her nerves tingled with the expectation of his hands wandering the planes of her body. Her tongue flickered out to wet her lips. Immediately, Soo-Won’s eyes dropped to stare at her pink mouth with a raw intensity. The passionate look made Yona’s hot body flush further with want.

Just as she found herself leaning forward to crawl towards him, she stopped herself.

No! Yona, do not yield to such base temptations! She scolded herself. If she could have slapped herself, she would’ve. As her muscles tensed, Soo-won’s gazed raked back up to her dawn-red eyes. “As I told you, I was nearly asleep. I’m quite tired,” she grumbled. The order, unspoken, burned within her words. Soo-Won continued to stare levelly at her with no apparent intentions to move. Must I speak it plainly? She thought with a scowl forming on her lips. “Soo-Won-”

“Do you love me, Yona?”

Her face flushed nearly as red as her hair. She pressed her lips together to form a thin white line. Her mind flew to their passionate encounter in the tent just across the border from Sei. I love you. She had almost uttered the words. Of course she loved him. Of course she loved him. She had loved him for so long, and despite everything that had happened so far, she still loved him! Frustrated tears sprung to the corners of her eyes and her bottom lip wobbled. She didn’t want to say. She couldn’t say, because if she did, everything would change.

Yet say it she did.

“I do love you, Soo-Won. I love you so much it pains me,” she whispered. A tense silence settled between them, broken only by the chirping of the crickets inhabiting the long grasses surrounding the tent. Slowly, he crawled forward until he was seated in front of her, knees just barely brushing hers. Yona stared forlornly at her hands, which were clasped in her lap, to watch the tears puddle on her skin as they dripped down from her chin. Soo-Won’s fingers came into her circle of vision to wrap lightly around her own. His index finger trailed along the side of hers, and the tender touch sent electric sparks jumping along her nerves. Her red eyes watched as his finger continued to lightly stroke over her skin. “Soo-Won,” she sighed quietly.

“I know,” he frowned. His hands slid up Yona’s arms, pushing up the long cotton sleeves of her modest kimono. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch, making her nerves wail in reverent choir along her forearms. “You can’t forgive me.” Yona swallowed thickly as a hard lump formed in her throat, and she gave him a tiny nod. Every time she would even consider forgiving him, she would envision her father’s body slumped on the floor, a puddle of blood slowly forming around him and staining his kingly clothes ruby red. His hand suddenly brushed over her cheek, and she automatically sought out more of his touch, pressing her face into his palm. Her tears smeared over the soft plane of his hand.

Why? She lamented. Why do I love him so, when I should do nothing but despise him? Well, it was because she knew it was complicated, the little voice in the back of her head chimed helpfully. It was oh so complicated. He held both her cheeks now, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers. His voice was softer than the first breeze of spring carrying the aroma of the budding flowers. “Yona, I never intended for you to get hurt. More than anything, I wanted you to understand, and be by my side to watch this country of ours return to former glory.” A flood of acid burned her mouth at the word ours. He was the king, and she the princess, so grammatically it was correct. She still loathed the idea of sharing responsibility for her people with Soo-Won. Yet, that was the reality- their reality.

“I don’t understand anything anymore,” she whispered back, sniffling. “The further I delve, I just grow more and more confused… Please, Soo-Won, just tell me plainly- why did you murder my father? What are you trying to accomplish with your rule? I must know!” she begged. Her hands leaped forward to curl into the silk fabric of his robes, twisting them into tight knots. A shadow darkened Soo-Won’s face as he lowered his head such that it rested against her collarbone; she had to crane her head back to avoid getting a mouthful of his pale gold hair. His arms slid around her waist to hug her tightly. He remained silent for several seconds.

“I can’t tell you, Yona,” he said finally. Yona’s body slumped down with a cold rush of disappointment and defeat. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back further to peer up at the pyramidal ceiling of the tent. Dusk had descended in full; the light gracing the world was now a soft silver. No, she thought morosely, of course you can’t. Yona would have expected a visceral reaction to his words- anger, hurt, frustration. Instead, she just felt cold and numb. The emotions swirling around in her body- the love, hate, desire, and fear- exhausted her thoroughly.

“Not yet. Not yet.” She looked down at his head, and her eyes widened. Soo-Won’s entire body slumped heavily against her, and his fingers clawed into the back of her kimono, as if he was clutching onto her to avoid being swept out into a stormy and perilous sea. Yona regarded him piteously; he looked so… weary.

“Soo-Won,” she murmured. Slowly, she leaned down to press a light kiss to the top of his head. In response, he tightened his grip on her. Yona stared silently down into his straw-colored waves of hair, and then slipped her fingers into the threads to stroke them absentmindedly. It was true that Yona bore a heavy burden, trapped in this web of mystery, but undoubtedly Soo-Won bore the weight of the world as well. She rested her cheek against his head with a small exhale. “I cannot forgive you… But I can understand that you have regrets,” she murmured. He shifted against her, pressing his nose into her sternum.

“There is so much right now that I don’t know and don’t understand,” she said thickly as the tears sprung to her eyes. They beaded across Soo-Won’s hair like dewdrops as she buried her face into it. It was all too much to bear. For a few short moments, Yona wanted to pretend that everything was all right, and she could love Soo-Won freely. “But I know that I love you. So I shall stay with you, at least for tonight.”

Soo-Won’s body stiffened like steel in her arms.

“Are you sure, Yona?” His voice was a low rumble that vibrated deep in her bones and made her eyes flutter sensually. The tip of his nose nudged aside the front of her kimono to trail along her collarbone before traveling slowly up the column of her neck; Yona craned her head back to allow him access, only responding with a small simpering whine. His hands secured around her hips to hold her solidly in place. She felt her mind descending into a hazy, blissful fog.

No political games, no cat-and-mouse chase, no murder plots or kings and princesses embroiled in a struggle for a throne. Simply Soo-Won and Yona, like she had always wanted. Perhaps it was unwise of her to submit to her feelings, but Yona had committed to flinging herself into the pit of oblivion.

I just want to imagine that things can be between us, if only for one night.

Yona didn’t recall falling backward, but in the next moment, Soo-Won had her pinned underneath him. He peppered searing, open-mouthed kisses up the length of her jugular; the titillating sensation made her keen and mewl and paw at his clothes. Finally, he pulled himself up so that his face hovered over hers. Yona’s face was flushed and heated, and she panted slightly with expectation. Tenderly, he brushed the pads of his fingers over her lips.

Then he dove down to capture her mouth with his own. Yona’s back arched as he swept her into a passionate, messy kiss. One of his hands pushed into her tresses of dawn-red hair while the other coursed over her curves, stroking harshly over the soft fabric. The tip of his tongue swept over her bottom lip, pleading for entry, and Yona readily complied. The muscle fervently tangled with her own, and every swirl within her mouth sent pulses of heat through her already flushing body. That cascade of emotion began rippling through her, the confusing waterfalls of hurt and sadness and happiness and hate and love that pooled together in a chaotic maelstrom. As it took hold of her, her movements became sluggish and half-hearted.

She wanted to keep kissing him, but oh, how she desired to shove him away and curse him and taint his name with obscenities. At one point, her eyes cracked open to see Soo-Won’s sea-green eyes boring into hers. It felt like he could see into the depths of her very soul. Those blue irises were like a tremendous oncoming wave of reality and accusation that threatened to overtake her any moment, and Yona felt panic flood through her veins. Her body stiffened, like she had been petrified.

Did she really want this? Or was it just pure escapism?

Yona wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but he finally pulled away in that moment. She sucked in a big gulp of air, chest heaving for oxygen.

His eyes were lidded as he nosed her cheek. With her red eyelashes fluttering, she peered wearily at him. His sea-blue eyes regarded her with a rapt fascination, like he was drinking every minute detail of her face; his index finger continuously stroked her other cheek in feather-light touches. Yona was not aware she was crying until she felt the wetness roll down her cheek. The tear caught on his fingertip as it moved over her cheekbone, spreading the salty water over her skin. Soo-Won smiled wanly as he again rested his forehead against hers.

“You hate me, don’t you?”

The heavy mist that had descended over her mind was clearing, leaving behind the bitter taste of regret. Yona’s throat bobbed as she attempted to swallow the hard lump in her throat, but it remained stubbornly lodged there. The teardrops clung to her red eyelashes as they flapped repeatedly. Soo-Won had obviously sensed the complicated feelings gripping her and had ceased his actions accordingly. She wasn’t sure whether she was disappointed or relieved.

Hate. Yona had never considered how strong the word was until that moment. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth as she pondered the question.

“You? No. I don’t hate you. I hate what has become of us,” she murmured finally. She knew she could never bring herself to hate Soo-Won, not really. She could only direct all that hate to the complicated reality that had developed between them as a consequence of her naivety and ignorance. How pathetic of me, she thought wryly. Yet, that was the reality of it, something Yona had to live with. Soo-Won smiled dryly and slowly sat up. His blond hair was soft as it brushed over her exposed neck and shoulder.

“That’s an eloquent way to put it,” he chuckled. The iron edge to his voice cut through Yona like a knife. With a weary sigh, he swept his hair behind his shoulder. He then glanced out of the flap of the tent, which was still flapping in the night breeze. The white moonlight streamed in through the triangular-shaped gap to bathe over Yona and ignite her red hair into ruby threads. While she basked in the light, Soo-Won was framed by the shadows. The darkness cast harsh lines onto his face, making his usually soft and pretty features hard-edged and intimidating. His eyes glinted at her like chips of aquamarine, thoughtful. “I hate what’s become of us,” he echoed, but more like he was analyzing the statement than agreeing with it.

Though Yona had offered to stay with him, Soo-Won rose to leave. She knew that it was for the best; it was unwise to complicate their situation any further. She rolled onto her side as he made for the entrance of the tent. Resting her head on the wine-red pillow, she closed her eyes and exhaled deeply. Her heart still hammered in her chest, reacting to the ghosts of Soo-Won’s hands on her body and his lips against hers, hot and heavy.

“Yona,” Soo-Won called suddenly. She opened her eyes to peer curiously at him. He smiled faintly at her, silhouetted by the moonlight. “See you at dawn.” Then he was gone. He pinned the flap behind him, and the tent became enveloped in darkness. Yona stared at the place he had been for several seconds. Then, she sighed deeply and rolled onto her back to stare up at the ceiling of the tent again.

There was nothing to do but what for dawn to come. Dawn, after this long, long dusk that Yona had been trapped in since the night of her father’s death.

Enjoy this oneshot? Here’s Part IV and Part V! Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork

#yonawon #yona x soowon #yona x soo-won #soowon x yona #soo-won x yona #yona #soo-won #soowon #yona of the dawn #akatsuki no yona #akayona #yotd #yotd fanfiction #yotd fanfic #sooyona

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joonieebear · 5 years ago

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you’re the sun that rose again in my life

Jeongguk was not the person Yoongi wanted crashing on his couch. Jeongguk was not the person Yoongi wanted to have in his house at all, and Jeongguk was definitely not the person Yoongi wanted to walk in and see him half-naked.

Yoongi is going to kill Park Jimin.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/23010175/chapters/55017805

chapter one // chapter two //

Yoongi woke to the sound of music muffled by the shower running. The sunlight peeking through the curtains tell him its way past time for him to be up, but he don’t have the energy to move. What happened last night? Yoongi glances down to see he’s still wearing jeans and one shoe. What the fuck, man. After laying in bed for a few more minutes, Yoongi makes the great effort to roll over and check his phone.

1:23 pm.

Shit. He was supposed to be at the coffee shop almost two hours ago for his shift. Yoongi has never missed a shift, even after pulling all nighters in the campus recording studio for two days in a row. Pulling himself up to a sitting position, he opens a new text message and began to come up with an excuse.

1:28 Yoongi: Hello Ms. Lee, I am so sorry about missing my shift today. I just woke up and feel like death walking. Please forgive my missing today.

Yoongi places his phone back on the nightstand and sighs, knowing that he’s going to have to get up and at least grab breakfast. Standing up felt like a strange new experience, his legs still wobbly from whatever adventure he had just returned from the night before. He pulls off his wrinkled (and dirty, what did he get into last night?) jeans and finds some sweatpants and a t-shirt off the floor, wrestling it over his head. Yoongi’s hair is a mess, not that he has it in him to care. The bright light of his phone screen reminds him that whatever it was he did last night hurt, and he’s beginning to regret ever leaving his studio.

1:30 pm Ms. Lee: It’s okay, dear! I knew you must have had something serious going on when you didn't call beforehand. We’ve got everything covered here. Feel better!

Well, Ms. Lee was right about one thing, he did have something going on. He just couldn’t remember what.

⭒⭒⭒

The strange lump on the couch starts to move, making small squeaks and grunts as it becomes longer. Yoongi watches from the kitchen table, munching on his cereal, assuming his roommate, Jimin, must have fallen asleep on the couch last night. Something is different, though he can’t place what it is exactly. The lump breathes different, and sounds different. Yoongi knew that Jimin curled his body into a ball when he woke up- he was fond of sneaking into Yoongi’s room after one of his “nightmares” and asking him to cuddle, knowing that he wouldn’t protest when half asleep.

Yoongi had been so engrossed in watching the strange lump in the living room that he didn’t notice that the shower and music had stopped. Jimin walked out, a towel wrapped around his waist and one being ruffled through his hair. Yoongi looks up at him and freezes mid-chew, and glances back at the lump on the couch.

If Jimin was in the shower this whole time, who is on my couch?

“Oh, you’re up! I was starting to think you were dead”

“Being dead would be a blessing compared to how I feel right now. Who’s the lump?”

“Uhh… about that… how much of last night do you remember?” he asks, running the towel through his hair one last time before throwing it across his shoulder.

Yoongi remembers clocking out of work and walking the two blocks from the coffee shop to the apartment. Jimin was there with one of his friends, Hoseok. Jimin asked if he had any exciting Friday night plans. Yoongi secretly wanted to use one of his new bath bombs and catch up on some Netflix, but settled on ‘sleeping, like a normal human’. Hoseok said that was the lamest way to spend a Friday night and he wouldn’t have someone as hot as Yoongi hulled up with a pillow all night.

“Not much after you and Hoseok dragged me out of the apartment, why? Oh god, what did I do?” Who did I do?

“It wasn’t you, exactly, it was me. You remember my friend Jeongguk, right?”

It was then that he heard a loud thud behind Jimin. The lump on the couch was now a lump on the floor, groaning at the rude awakening.

“Oh no, no, no. Park Jimin, you did not…”

“You said it was fine last night!” he whined, making the pouty face he knew Yoongi secretly loved and could never resist.

“I don’t even remember last night! Why is Jeon Jeongguk sleeping on my couch?!”

“Technically, it’s our couch, and don’t be so loud, he can hear you! Just hear me out, okay?”

“You have 5 minutes to come up with a really good reason before I throw both of you out into the hallway,” Yoongi says, looking down at Jimin’s still-towel covered waist.

Jimin glances down too, remembering that he still hasn’t gotten dressed yet. His cheeks turn a light pink, embarrassed not that he’s been standing in front of Yoongi in just a towel, but that Yoongi keeps his promises and he doesn’t necessarily want to call the landlord again to let him back into the apartment in just a towel.

“Can I at least get decent before my timer starts?”

Yoongi chuckles at the idea of him banging on the door with one hand while trying to cover himself with the other as the neighbors pass. He decided that kind of embarrassment might actually kill the poor boy, so he simply gives Jimin a nod as he gets up to place the cereal bowl in the sink. Yoongi turns around to lean against the counter, waiting on Jimin’s return. Jeongguk had moved himself from the floor back onto the couch, sitting up but still looking half asleep. Yoongi decided he should go change his clothes after noticing that the shirt he found on the floor had a mysterious stain on it. Walking past the mess of hair and blanket, Yoongi returns to the still-dark room he barely gets to spend time in.

Shuffling through his dresser drawers, Yoongi pulls out his comfiest jeans and search for a t shirt that doesn’t have 3-day-old studio smell embedded in its threads. Yoongi can hear some mumbling from the living room as Jeongguk manages to form a sentence coherent enough for Jimin to understand. Yoongi had just pulled off his sweatpants and replaced them with a slightly less dirty pair of jeans than the ones he woke up in when he heard a faint knock and the door creak open. Jimin must be taking his towel back to the bathroom. Jimin’s own bathroom was currently out of commission, since he somehow managed to break the shower head and the pipe connecting it. Yoongi is still convinced it was due to Jimin’s shower serenades, despite his secret fondness of the boy’s vocals. The landlord had promised to send someone over to look at it sometime this week, so Jimin was stuck showering in Yoongi's bathroom. He had just pulled off what was actually Jimin’s shirt, revealing his porcelain skin.

“Shit!” Yoongi turned to face a wide-eyed Jeongguk standing in his doorway, grabbing Jimin’s shirt to cover himself.

“What the fuck, Jeon! What are you doing in here?”

“I’m sorry, Jimin said the only bathroom that worked was yours! I knocked but the door opened, and I didn’t-- ” Jeongguk stammered out as fast as he could before he cut him off.

“You tap the door and then just walk in?”, Yoongi half-yelled, pushing Jeongguk back out the doorway.

Yoongi is going to kill Park Jimin.

⭒⭒⭒

After Yoongi finished getting dressed, he walked out to the living room to find Jimin flipping through the channels on the TV and Jeongguk avoiding eye contact with him. Yoongi mumbled in Jeongguk’s direction to tell him he can go to the bathroom now, and plopped down beside Jimin on the couch, snatching the tv remote from his small hands.

“Alright, I’m gonna need a really good reason not to kill you after your little guest just walked in on me changing in my own room.”

“I told him to knock first… are you wearing my shirt?”

Yoongi glanced down at the black v-neck he wearing, realizing that he had grabbed another one of Jimin’s shirts and put it on while trying to cover himself from Jeongguk’s wide-eyed stare.

“Shut up, you shouldn’t have thrown it in with my laundry. It looks better on me anyway,” he says, snatching the remote away from Jimin.

“Hey!”

“Explain. Now.”

Jimin lets out a long sigh before beginning, “Last night Hobi-hyung wanted to go to the new club in town. You said you were super stressed out from work and school this week, so he bought you a couple drinks. I was sitting at the table and saw Jeongguk walk in, but he looked like a lost puppy. Hobi-hyung had finally gotten enough drinks in your system for you to actually agree to dancing with him, so you left.”

Yoongi nods, memory starting to return, but still choppy.

“When we were alone, I asked Jeongguk what was going on, and he said his boyfriend had been cheating on him for the last three months and he had nowhere to go. He didn’t want to go back to their apartment because apparently he had been bringing the guy back there and it didn’t feel like his home anymore. He asked if I knew anyone looking for a roommate. Hyung, you just don’t understand how broken this kid looked last night. I told him I would ask you if he could stay here just for a couple nights and you said you didn’t care as long as we don’t have to leave then. So he came back home with us.”

Well, that explains his entire body hurting this morning. Yoongi begins to wonder just what Hoseok had bought him to make him forget all of that. Yoongi sits in silence for a while, processing all that Jimin had told him, and eventually registering that he actually felt sorry for Jeongguk.

“Alright. He can stay until he finds a roommate. But it better not be months” he says.

Jeongguk walks back into the room, still avoiding eye contact with Yoongi, and asks if he can have some ibuprofen. Apparently, Yoongi wasn’t the only one waking up hungover this morning.

⭒⭒⭒

Two months have passed since the lump on Yoongi’s couch became a slow-forming smile on his face. Jeongguk now bunks with Jimin since his room was the larger of the two and could fit two beds easily, and he picked up household chores without even having to be asked to do. Yoongi had grown fond of his presence, not to mention he loved to pick on Jimin just as much as Yoongi did.

Today was no different from any other day off for Yoongi; the sunlight coming through the windows of the living room shined directly onto his body, warming him up from the cool spring breeze blowing through. It was one of the rare times Yoongi wanted to be out in the living room rather than locked away in his dark dungeon of a bedroom. Jeongguk was in the kitchen making lunch for the two of them while Jimin studied at the library for a few hours.

“Hyung, I can’t find the ramen noodles! Can you come help me look?”

“Did you look in the pantry?”

“Yes, I didn’t see any!”

“Look again, that’s where they always are.”

“I promise I looked, I can’t find them! Hyung, we’re gonna starve!”

“I swear if I come in there and find it I’m cooking you instead!”

Yoongi closed his laptop and tossed it on to the cushion beside him and stood up, stretching from laying in the sun for so long. As he made his way to the kitchen, he sees Jeongguk stretching to reach the top shelf to move things around. Yoongi caught a glimpse of his tan waist peeking out from his shirt. Suddenly, Yoongi can’t remember why he came into the kitchen but he is so glad he did.

Wait, no, stop. Thats Jeongguk. You can’t look at his anything like that. What are you thinking?

⭒⭒⭒

#bangtanarmynet #yoonkook #sugakookie #bts #btsfic #bts fic #roommates #roommate au #college au #park jimin #min yoongi #jeon jungkook #sleepovers #jungkook is a little shit #crossposted #also on ao3 #yoongi fic #jungkook fic #yoonkook fic

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minsugapie · 6 years ago

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Now You See Me: part 22.5 (2249 words) - best thing since sliced bread

• • • • • •

You’re a content creator that is wanting to change up your brand a little bit.

Yoongi is a faceless musician. Well, he’s two people at once. He’s Agust D online and while performing, but he’s Min Yoongi in real life.

Who will he be to you?

• • • • • •

PART 22 // PART 22.5 // PART 23

masterlist

• • • • • •

tags : @dixonsbugaboo @mayumioutloud @minhyukstealer @pocketfullofsuga @pwinny00 @rjsmochii @yoonglemickdoongle @live-2-fangirl @cherryicy123 @vernooope @okaysoplshelpme @thebleuprince

• • • • • •

It was a couple hours into game night with everyone, and it was already wild. Except for Jungkook because he fell asleep under the table while petting Yeontan a while ago.

For one, Yoongi had just finished up rapping some new song he was working on in front of everyone. He’d just finished a drink and was feeling great when he performed, so it was overall the best thing you’d ever witnessed. In fact, you were sure that if Tae were there, he would have literally thrown himself onto the floor for the man. Really, you were sad that their dinner reservations could not be changed. The two of them would have had so much fun with your group.

The second thing that contributed to the wild night was the fact that Hoseok wouldn’t stop holding your hand, which you didn’t mind, per se. But after what Yoongi had told you, you had a weird feeling. Just as you were about to whisper and ask him exactly why he was holding your hand so firmly and possessively, there was a drunken interruption.

“Yah! The music video turned out so well!” Jin slurred, not looking at anyone but Namjoon while talking to everyone. It was a well known fact that the two of them couldn’t keep their hands off each other, and alcohol just made it worse. Actually, Namjoon currently had his hands under Jin’s shirt and was resting his lips against Jin’s neck too. Nothing else was happening, but the skinship was real.

On one side of you was Hoseok, because he was clearly holding your hand, and on the other was Yoongi. Both men froze at Jin’s statement, not sure which person he was complimenting. With Yoongi’s mask securely placed on his face and only a straw coming up from his drink, you weren’t able to even remotely decipher what he was thinking.

But Jin continued before anything could be said, “The song and editing were good, sure, but Y/N just was WOW. She really made my heart hurt. Like seriously the best thing since sliced bread.”

A smile formed on your lips as you felt Yeontan wiggle in between your feet and settle between your legs. “Awh! Auntie Jin, the praying mantis, you’re the sweetest but it was all Hobi and Agust D…”

You saw Yoongi’s head turn to look at you just as Jimin added, “Don’t be modest! Your beauty is what got the video so many views in 24 hours! Even now, you’re filming all of us, and there is not a person on your subscriber list or that has watched your videos that doesn’t think you’re nice to look at!”

You blushed as Jimin’s comment. Unfortunately, you were still looking at Yoongi, so he got the full view of your blushing cheeks (as if they could even get more flushed after the alcohol flush). Everybody in the room but you could tell that the look Yoongi was giving you matched Jimin’s statement.

“You’re beautiful, Y/N,” Hobi whispered into your ear and squeezed your hand tighter.

You took this moment to let Hoseok know that you only liked him in one way, even if you weren’t sure what his true feelings were. So you told him, “You’re such a good friend, Hobi. Honestly, I’m so happy that I have you as a brother.”

The smile on his face didn’t reveal his inner pain as he continued clutching your hand like you were together. The mood stayed for a little while longer, Namjin now choosing to lay kisses on each other and play with the other’s hair, Jungkook still passed out, Jimin trying his hardest to make you blush, Hoseok’s hand in yours and Yoongi silently watching your every move.

Actually the card game had been completely forgotten about, black and white cards strewn across the table that was also littered with alcohol spills and popcorn. This was a night that you’d want to repeat, maybe next time you wouldn’t film it. You could live in the moment as much as the next person. Plus, with everything happening at once, you weren’t even sure that any of the footage you’d gotten was usable.

• • • • • •

Now, 4 hours since the camera had been turned on, it was off.

At this time, Namjin had already headed home because they had to babysit tomorrow afternoon, and they needed to get some sleep and nurse the hangovers that they were sure to have. Hoseok had gotten a ride home with Jimin and Jungkook because he lived nearby, but Yoongi decided to stay for a bit longer, wanting to help clean up. He sent his friends on their way because they were big babies and clearly too drunk to function.

A side note, everyone clearly took a cab because there would be no driving from this shindig. You wanted all your friends alive and well.

Actually, Yoongi did not drink all that much that night, or ever you assumed. He had nursed a few drinks, so he was feeling good. He didn’t seem like the type to want to get drunk. You were in the same boat. You had a few, but you knew when you had to stop.

You were seriously amazed that Yoongi had managed to keep his mask (on his chin for the most part) and cap on the whole night because it got hot in there and everyone was goofing around. You’d really have to be careful while editing. If his face was showing, you’d need to blur it out or put a picture of his profile pic on it or something. But you could worry about that tomorrow.

“I’ll help you put everything away. We made a huge mess,” he said, picking up as many soju bottles as he could in his hands and taking them to the recycling bin.

“Okay,” you whispered. You didn’t know if it was your tipsy state or fatigue, but you found yourself watching Yoongi carefully. You noticed that now that the camera was off, and it was just the two of you, he took his mask off and pushed his hair back, putting his cap on backwards.

It was a look that you found you wanted him to wear more often. In the background, faint music could be heard and briefly, there was a siren outside. But none of that noise stopped you from making eye-contact with him for a second. You quickly looked away, long enough for him to hopefully think nothing of it before you continued watching him again.

Your eyes followed the slight stumble in his step when he tripped over air. It was absolutely the cutest thing that you’d ever seen him do. You looked at his long fingers holding the bottles carefully, cleaning up your apartment, and wondered what you did to deserve being friends with this man. There was something about him that just made you want to get to know everything about him. You knew there was a lot hiding under that mask and cap.

You were simply standing at the counter, blatantly staring at him instead of helping when he turned around. He caught your eye for real this time, and you looked away, blushing. “Am I cleaning this all by myself or are you going to help out?”

Grateful that he didn’t bring up your staring, you went to the table quickly, clumsily, and grabbed the empty bags of snacks. The cards were still everywhere, so you were set on organizing those as well.

Your kitchen was becoming cleaner by the second. Yoongi removed his jacket, sporting a black t-shirt underneath. It wasn’t like you planned to notice his arms right away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You’d rarely seen him get so comfortable. The only other time was when you’d had that fun night of puzzles and arcade games.

When he caught you staring at him this time, the third time, the boy blessedly kept quiet and simply let you look at him. In fact, you could feel his eyes, trail down your body as much as yours raked over his. You were standing there, a broom in hand, ready to sweep the floor, but he was still checking you out.

Walking towards you slowly, he placed his hand over yours that was holding the broom. Leaning to your ear, he whispered, “Here, let me do that.”

His breath on your skin left you with shivers coursing through your body. You couldn’t reply, meekly nodding instead. At this point a low rumble came from his chest, and you were sure that he could tell how flustered he made you. You couldn’t even hide your attraction, and if you were being honest, you didn’t want to. Even his hand over yours holding a broom made your heart do a thing.

The rest of the cleaning was done in a blur, both of you mostly sober now. You needed to get Yoongi out of your house as soon as you could because you couldn’t stop looking at him, thinking about him, wanting him…

Walking beside Yoongi down the hallway with Tannie at your feet when the cleaning finally finishing (it felt like it took a thousand years), you waited as he put on his shoes. He had already put on his jacket again in the kitchen, so at least you weren’t distracted by his arms any longer. Something improved.

Yoongi slowly stood straight, looking you in the eye with an odd expression. “You’ll be okay on your own?” He asked, low voice seemingly lower than usual.

“I’ll be fine. Tae should be home soon,” you managed, leaning your back and using the wall for support. How had you not noticed how perfect Yoongi could be until this night? Sure, you knew he was hot and that he checked literally all your boxes, but something in you shifted tonight. He was consuming you. There was absolutely no way that he was leaving your mind when he left tonight.

Yoongi took a step towards you, and your breath hitched. It was clearly audible, but he didn’t seem to notice. One of his hands moved up and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “I’m going to leave now.” Was it just you or was his body coming closer to yours, head moving toward yours?

“Okay. Text me when you get home, so I know you got there safely…” Your words came out in barely a whisper because you were sure that he was moving closer to you.

“For sure…yeah…”

Your hands that were previously just hanging by your side went up to his chest, stopping him from getting any closer. “Yoongi, what are you doing?” You mentally face-palmed. Why would you ask a question at a time like this. You’d been kissed before. You definitely knew what was going to happen, you stupid girl!

Luckily, he simply ignored your question, choosing to grab the wrist of one of your hands and guide it, so it was around his neck. His eyes, that were staring at your lips, met yours, looking for any sort of hesitation from you.

“So Hoseok?” He questioned, not moving a muscle away from you.

“Hoseok who?”

The Yoongi that was consuming your before was coming at you full-speed, and you didn’t want him to stop. His body was warm against your own, even though he was barely touching you. Your breathing became laboured just thinking about kissing him, and it felt like an eternity passed before he connected your lips.

He was hesitant at first, but you didn’t waste any time in kissing him back. It was clear that you wanted it and him.

Yoongi’s lips felt right against your own. They were soft, and he tasted of alcohol. You moved your lips with ease, arms both going around his neck and pulling him closer to you. Yoongi took a step closer to you, pushing his torso against yours. When you felt his waist rest against yours, you gladly opened your mouth to him.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip as he pulled away for a second, looking into your eyes to see your reaction. When you lazily closed your eyes again, you felt his lips come back to yours. His tongue darted inside your mouth, moving adeptly against your own. The hands that were previously clutching at your sides moved into your hair, tugging it to angle your head.

When this caused the kiss to deepen, you let your hands slide from around his neck to under his jacket and around his back. This kiss was something else. You hadn’t kissed anyone in a long while, and you couldn’t have been more ecstatic that it was Yoongi. It felt as if his touch was setting you in fire, skin blazing with each kiss.

In the back of your mind, you wondered what this kiss would mean…if it would mean anything to him. But that thought didn’t last long because when neither of you were paying attention, the front door had been unlocked and Taehyung walked through the door.

“Agust D?” Tae asked, causing you to push Yoongi off of you abruptly.

“Tae!” You exclaimed, trying to catch your breath and fix yourself. Yoongi looked into your eyes one last time before pushing himself out the door. You were left in front of your brother, who was looking like he wasn’t sure what he saw…or what he thought he saw.

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too-old-for-fangirling-but-idc · 5 years ago

Text

My little Squeaky Toy Pt.5 (Tom Hiddleston x Reader)

Title: My little Squeaky Toy Pt.5

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Summary: In which Tom and you finally have dinner together in an Italian restaurant.

Warnings: fluff, romance, kissing, a lot of blushing, clumsiness, shy reader, Tom Hiddleston is a ridiculous gentleman and sweetheart, embarrassing situations

Notes: I’m not really satisfied with this part, I’m sorry.

(Y/C) = your city

Word count: 2008

Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Requested by: @eye106

The restaurant was small. A tiny building so far off the main streets that it was no wonder that it was pretty much empty. Tom’s hand lay on your lower back as he guided you into the even smaller room. It felt good, though, his grip was neither too strong, nor was force put into it. You could barely feel his fingers on your back, so light was the touch.

It puzzled you, how you had survived the car ride and the permanent side glances he had thrown at you, without going insane. Well, you had been in some sort of daze the moment you had landed in his arms and had just managed to snap out of it when you had arrived at the restaurant.

Tom talked to a waiter, who quickly took your jackets and led you to a table in one of the corners, far away from the entrance or anything that could make noises which would interrupt or distract you. In a hurry he lit the candle in the middle of the table - it was a small one in a glass - and pulled out the chair for you to sit down. You were a bit flustered, but concentrated only on the beautiful human being, that was just getting comfortable, in front of you. He really was beautiful.

The candle light and the smile, that was plastered to his lips, didn’t make it any better. Talking about it… said smile grew until a row of perfect white pearls was being revealed. How did he even manage that? Keeping his teeth in such perfect condition?

“Are you okay, darling? You look a bit flushed.” He sounded concerned, but the grin on his lips told you something different. He was teasing you on purpose.

“I have never felt better.” That wasn’t a lie. Internally, you were screaming in pure excitement and joy and you couldn’t remember the last time you had to suppress a grin with such force. The smile was everything you let slip. At least, he should know that you enjoyed yourself.

One of Tom’s eyebrows shot upwards when you took the menu from the waiter, smiling at the middle-aged man shortly in thanks. Then your gaze was fixed on Tom again.

The light in the restaurant was dim, although it was still bright daylight outside. It made you wonder about how in the world Tom had managed to spot this place without having directly passed it on his way into the city.

Small shadows were cast along Tom’s soft features, his sharp cheekbones and tender throat highly accentuated in contrast to his cheeks and the crook of his neck. He wore a dark-blue button-down shirt, that almost seemed black, with rolled up sleeves. The light linen – seemingly crinkled at the sleeves and near the buttons – caressed his body in a way you had never seen on another man before. Basically, and honestly, Tom could wear whatever he wanted, and you would still drool over him, no matter how messy he would look.

“Do you already know what you want to drink?” The moment he spoke, your eyes were drawn to his lips. God, what was wrong with you?

“No – I mean yes. Yes, I do.” Could it possibly get any more embarrassing?

By the way he smiled at you, you could tell that he had caught you staring and apparently, he found that rather amusing. Just seconds later he leaned a bit forward and propped his chin on one of his hands.

“What are you going to take?”

“I’m – uh…” You stammered and internally applauded yourself for such an intelligent statement.

“You didn’t choose anything, am I right?” He flashed you a cheeky grin. “What about Pinot Noir? It goes really well with pasta.”

You assumed that Pinot Noir had to be wine or something similar. At least it sounded like it was. Maybe red wine. Actually, you weren’t someone to drink alcohol, but that was a special occasion and one single glass couldn’t be that bad after all.

“I’m sorry.” Concern showed on his face, his brows knitted slightly. “I didn’t even ask you if you liked wine.”

“Depends. What is Pinot Noir?” You answered truthfully, causing Tom to laugh heartily.

God, he was so beautiful like that.

“It’s red wine. Trust me when I tell you that it is worth trying.”

“Okay… How much is it?” You meant the price, because, considering the name of that wine, it might be expensive, and you weren’t exactly rich.

“Don’t worry about the price, Darling, I’m paying.”

Of course, you should have known that he would offer that. But now you were sitting in front of him, agape at his kindness and just didn’t know what to say, completely surprised, although you should have known. You felt your cheeks flush and, considering how hot your face was at that moment, you were probably as red as a tomato.

Tom tilted his head slightly upwards and then down again, smiling gently at you, no judgement to see in his eyes.

“You are beautiful when you blush.” It sounded so innocent and soft, coming from him and it just made you blush all the more.

“Thank you?” How were you supposed to react to something like this? His stare was intense enough to make you shift nervously and curl a strand of hair in between your index finger and your thumb.

His smile grew wider and he leaned back slightly, obviously looking you up and down. Normally, you wouldn’t have noticed, but that was different. It wasn’t just some guy, it was Tom.

And apparently, he did it with the knowledge of you noticing what he was doing. Hopefully, he would stop soon. Not, that you didn’t like having his attention, you merely didn’t want to be blushing for the rest of the evening. He chuckled and looked down, studying his hand, while you were studying him.

His glasses were sliding down his nose, just a bit and they definitely wouldn’t have fallen down - they stopped mid-way - but you couldn’t resist the urge and leaned forward, gently pushing it up again. Then holding his gaze, you wanted to sit down again, but his slender fingers wrapped around your wrist, as he gently pulled you forward. And suddenly you felt overwhelmed by his presence. Before you knew what was happening, he cupped your cheek and pulled you even closer, careful so you wouldn’t hurt yourself.

“Are you seeing anyone lately?” His voice was slightly hoarse and his gaze intense and fixed on you. It made you shudder and colour, when you realized what he had meant with that question.

“No…” You hesitated to hold eye contact, but at the same time, you wouldn’t even have been able to withdraw or do anything at all, his scent and hot hand on your skin almost too much to bear.

“That’s good.” He shifted slightly, reached for the back of your neck and kissed you. For the first few seconds, you couldn’t think, were not able to realize what was happening. Your head was spinning and all at once, you felt lightheaded and dizzy. Then you noticed how soft and warm his lips were, how gentle the kiss and how patiently he merely pressed his lips against yours, waiting for you to respond or to reject. And that was all it took for you to kiss him back, to move your lips and show him that, yes, yes you liked it and yes, you wanted more.

At some point, you might have knocked your – still empty – wine glass over but you couldn’t care less. You wanted to kiss him forever.

But Tom was the first to part again, slightly dazed, and caressed your cheek gently. Flushing deeply red, you looked away and sat down again, flattening your blue dress to keep your hands busy.

The hand, that had cupped your cheek only a few seconds ago, had wandered down your neck, shoulder and arm until it had reached your hand and Tom intertwined your fingers with his.

You stared at him wide eyed, not really registering when he ordered a bottle of wine and your meals and sent the waiter away again, paying his every attention to you once more. He squeezed your hand gently and smiled reassuringly, as if he was afraid you would change your mind at the next best opportunity.

“How can you brighten up with one smile?” It was barely a whisper, not intended for him to hear, but he did and chuckled amused, making you flush all over yet another time. But why did you even take the time to be embarrassed for what you had said? He was the one who had kissed you, wasn’t that obvious enough? You didn’t think of Tom as someone who would play games for fun with other people’s feelings. Nevertheless, you couldn’t help but feel insecure. Showing people your vulnerability was never something that was easy for you, and even Tom was no exception in that case. Although, you were already trusting him a lot more than you had ever trusted anyone before – again, besides your best friend of course.

“Because I mostly laugh when I am truly happy.” He guessed and now it was your turn to laugh.

“What did you order?” The least thing you wanted to do, was ruining the mood, but at some point, you had to know what you were going to eat.

“I ordered Fettuccine Napoletana for the two of us. Is that okay with you?”

“How did you know that I love this pasta dish?”

“You said you love pasta.” He smirked and winked at you. You knew that he had probably simply guessed, but it was a cute and sweet gesture anyways.

The waiter came back to your table with a bottle of wine and poured you a glass, moving on to Tom’s glass afterwards. When he had left again, Tom lifted his glass and smiled softly.

“Cheers.” You clinked glasses with him and took your first sip of the red wine, all the time being observed closely by Tom.

“It’s good, I like it.” You stated and put the glass down again, the sweet taste of the dry wine still lingering on your tongue. Truth be told, it tasted exactly like every other red wine, making you wonder why Tom was so fond of it. At least, he seemed pleased with your answer.

The two of you were talking until your food arrived. He told you about his tight schedule, the many takes they had to shoot, the mistakes that happened to nearly every actor on set, his utterly frustrating and annoying costume and at some point during your conversation he trailed off to Shakespeare. It was plainly adorable. You listened, loving every word that left his mouth, and watched him as he gesticulated to strengthen what he was saying. You could listen to him forever, so every time it seemed as if he wouldn’t continue to talk, you asked him a new question. Actually, it was the first time that he talked that much, but probably because he was just as nervous as you.

He kept his word and payed for your dinner, tipping the waiter generously, before helping you stand up and put your jacket back on.

His hand was on the small of your back again, as he led you out of the restaurant.

“That was really lovely.” He turned to look at you, his other hand curling around your waist. He was all smiles.

“Yes, it was. Thank you.” Almost intuitively, you placed your own hands on his chest, once again marvelling at his height. “Thank you for inviting me.”

There was a short silence, in which he just looked at you in awe.

“I’m sorry that I talked that much, darling.” There was a hint of concern and guilt in his eyes, his grip around your waist tightening protectively. “Do you want to come with me for a cup of coffee?”

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leera-ozynite · 5 years ago

Text

Happy Birthday, Mr. Dwicky

@vindication-thy-name-is-dwight

Dwight had never thought much about his birthday. Even when he was living on Plookesia, it just wasn’t something that was all that important to him. It was just another day. A day where he just so happened to be reminded that he was another year older. Which, honestly he didn’t need much reminding of with his gray streaked hair and the slight crinkles in the corner of his eyes.

However, it seemed he’d been the only one with that mentality today. Everyone had painstakingly made sure he had not only gifts but some of his favorite foods as well. Even Mr Astral Projection While Comatose had been more pleasant to be around than usual. Dwight also found a bag chips that literally said Hell Chips on his desk. With chopsticks. It had made him snort.

The day was starting to wind down now, and he decided to get a little bit of work done before turning in for the night when the door to his office opened. He smiled softly when he saw Leera there. “Hello, Firefly.”

Leera blushed at her new nickname. She wasn’t sure she would ever get used to that. She returned the smile as she approached his desk. It was incredibly warm, but that was probably just the coat she was wearing. She reminded herself that this was going to be worth it.

“Hello, love,” she said sweetly. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders from behind his office chair, giving him a kiss along the side of his face. She took a quick peek around the office to make sure Hal wasn’t around. It wasn’t that she was worried about the cat, more so about a certain wandering soul of a comatose friend of theirs (and yes, she would say Johnny was their friend until the stars no longer shined and no one would be able to convince her otherwise.) The two of them were going to need...plenty of privacy. “Are you working on anything important?”

Dwight hummed at the gentle affection, turning to lean up and kiss Leera’s jaw. “Not particularly. Just some trivial things I figured I’d take care of before bed. Are you here to drag me away?”

Leera snorted and nuzzled his hair. “Only you would work on your birthday.”

“Just a few last minute things. Besides, I feel like I’ve had...a pretty eventful day, as it is.” He leaned into her nuzzles.

Leera grinned a little. Little did Dwight know, his evening was about to get even more eventful. “What if I told you I had one more present for you?”

Dwight rose a brow. “Careful. You’ll spoil me,” he joked. In truth he was mostly just very overwhelmed at all the attention for his birthday. It was a day he hadn’t thought about in a very long time. Not to mention, he didn’t quite feel like he deserved much of it.

Leera gave him another kiss on the cheek before slipping her arms from his shoulders. She walked around in front of him, leaning against the desk. “Perhaps that is my intention,” she purred as she slowly untied the belt of the coat. She casually let it slide off of her, revealing what she had been hiding underneath.

Dwight watched Leera with confusion for a moment, his eyes suddenly fixating on the belt she was untying. He had been a little confused to see Leera in the coat in the first place. She didn’t like being cold, but the base was kept at a fairly neutral temperature

However, as soon as her coat was off, pooling at her feet on the floor, Dwight had to wonder if someone had suddenly turned the thermostat up several degrees. Now he could see why she’d been wearing it. Leera stood before him in a black, lacy corset, tied just tightly enough to outline her perfect waist. There was also matching panties, though those were almost not even there, leaving the gorgeous swell of her hips pretty much entirely visible. A pair of sheer, black thigh-highs adorned her legs, held up by black garters attached to the corset.

Jesus Christ he wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten so hard so fast.

He swallowed hard, drinking in the sight in front of him. It was taking everything in him not just tackle Leera onto the desk and fuck her until she screamed.

Leera smiled, enjoying her partner’s reaction. She knew he was struggling with himself. He was so careful not to hurt her in any way, so hyper-aware of the harm he was capable of. But she trusted him. And now more than ever she wanted him. Wanted him to have her. All of her.

Her smile curled into a smirk. “Are you going to sit there and gawk all night, Mr. Dwicky?” she asked him, leaning forward to curling her fingers around his tie. She gave it quick tug toward her. “Or are you going to claim your prize?”

There was a sudden flash of movement, Dwight’s office chair clattering to the floor. He still wasn’t used to Leera being so forward, but good God, he was never going to complain about it. His mouth found hers in a frenzy, his fingers digging into her hair. His other hand immediately found her hip as he pressed himself against her, already starting to grind against her

“You mischievous little minx,” he growled, his mouth descending on her neck. He took his hands off of her for only a second to throw his blazer off before they both landed back on her hips. He had meant to pull her panties off just enough to be out of the way, but in his excitement he forgot how strong his metal hand could be, ripping the small, lacy garment right off of Leera’s body.

“Aw, Mr. Dwicky, those were expensive,” Leera teased breathlessly. In reality she didn’t care one bit, already moving her hips to meet his.

Dwight responded with a hard nip to her neck. “I’ll buy you new ones,” he told her as his hand flew to his belt, wanting to get his pants off as soon as possible. He’d give her anything and everything she wanted. He’d make up for so many years of not seeing what was right in front him. Leera Ozynite deserved the world, the universe, all the stars in all of space. And he’d find a way to give it all to her.

“Fuck, I love you,” he breathed, finally managing to get his pants and underwear off, hissing as his cock was brushed with the cool air of the room.

Leera gave a loud aroused chirp at the bite, her legs spreading to make room for Dwight to settle there. She was so happy to see his sense of urgency. Most of the time he liked to take his time, but there was something about watching him so eager for her that turned her on like nothing else.

However, her breath hitched at his next words, feeling the need to pause for a moment. He...he had never said those words to her before. She cupped his face in her hands, taking a moment to study his face. “Did...do you mean that?” Dwight was never one to say something he didn’t mean, but she had to be sure before she jumped to conclusions.

Dwight was confused at the sudden pause. For a moment he worried he was being too aggressive with her, perhaps assuming wrong about what she wanted. Then he realized what she was asking, what he had said. His expression softened in an instant, leaning into the touch of her hands. He even took a moment to kiss one of her palms before leaning forward to press his forehead to hers, keeping his eyes open to meet her gaze.

“I mean it,” he told her, his voice soft and full of promise. He reached up to caress her cheek with his right hand, the one made of flesh and bone. “I love you, Leera. With everything I am.” I don’t deserve you. I never have and I never will.

Leera stared at him, her eye shifting as if to search for some sign that he might be lying, simply indulging in her fantasies. But there was nothing of the sort in those startling blue eyes. Nothing but love and devotion and promises of forever. She was torn between being overwhelmed with emotion and being even more aroused than she was before. She pulled him toward her and kissed him passionately, her hands burying themselves in his hair. “I love you. I love you so much, Dwight.” She said between frantic kisses. “I’m yours, I’m yours please take me.”

Dwight’s chest tightened at the kisses, feeling his own emotions rise to the surface. This woman had seen so many horrors, put up with so much shit. And yet she stayed. He wanted to let her know it was worth it. That he would never put her in that position ever again. He would even the playing field, give and take. “And I’m yours, Firefly,” he told her.

Then he growled at her breathless pleas, wasting no more time lifting onto his desk. After a quick assessment that nothing on it was terribly important, he knocked everything off in a quick sweep. He nipped at her ear as he laid her down onto the wood, leaning over her, not wanting to get too far from her body. He spread her legs a little more slipping inside her with a grunt. She was so hot and wet. “Fuck, you’re amazing.”

Leera gasped as Dwight entered her, her arms and legs coming to wrap around her mate. She panted, her nails digging into Dwight still clothed shoulders. Her legs quivered. “Dwight. Dwight don’t stop. Take me hard I want it. Please.”

There was no way Dwight could deny such pretty, desperate words. His hand not gripping the desk gripped her hip as he began to move. He focused on making his thrusts powerful and deep, Fuck, she felt like heaven. “You feel so fucking good, Firefly,” he purred in her ear. “You’re so beautiful. You deserve everything . I - fuck - I want to give you everything.”

Leera bounced against the desk with the power of those thrusts, already gasping and moaning rather loudly. She struggled to move her hips to Dwight’s rhythm, chirruping at how much more intense the feelings became. They’re skin slapped against each other loudly and the desk rattled. She found it ridiculous that the thought of them breaking it with their love-making turned her on so much.

Her abdomen already felt so hot and tight. She knew she wasn’t going to last long the moment Dwight had thrown his chair. She liked slow and steady, yes, but there was something so addicting about being taken in a frenzy, of fucking like you might run out of time at any moment. Not to mention her emotions at Dwight’s love confession had only added to it. “I want it. I want everything.” She told him, cutting off with a high pitch moan in her native language. “Oh, stars, Dwight, please give me everything!”

Dwight didn’t have to be told twice. He removed his hand on Leera’s hip to join his metal in gripping the desk, using it a little as leverage. A couple more nicknacks and papers tumbled down to the floor. Nothing important. Definitely not important enough to distract him from his current task. He dipped down to kiss Leera frantically, his cock pumping in and out of her hard and fast. “I love you,” he told her between fervent kisses. “I love you. I love you - Ah! Fuck! I love you, Leera!”

Leera did her damndest to kiss back, the moves sloppy and feverish. Dwight’s words hit her like lightning shooting through her system, helping fuel the building heat in her belly. She moaned desperately into his mouth. “Oh, stars, yes!” she cried once they pulled away. “Yes, yes, just like that, I’m so close, please!”

Dwight decided perhaps it was time he tried something out. Unbeknownst to Leera, Dwight had been tinkering with a couple things with his metal arm. He removed his left hand from the desk, barely noticing the cracks and splinters he had created under his grip. His hand traveled down the curve of her waist, tracing the line where her hip met her pelvis, before landing right above where their bodies met, his thumb hovering over her clit.

“Anything...anything for you, Firefly,” he told her, his lips barely ghosting over hers as he spoke. Not stuttering in his pace for a moment he pressed his metal thumb to her clit and smirked. A sharp vibration erupted from the appendage, aimed perfectly where it would get the best reaction. His mouth was back on her throat, giving her passionate, open mouth kisses.

Leera was practically sobbing at this point, chest heaving with every breath she took. She was right on that edge, clinging to Dwight like he was the only thing she had left in the whole universe.

At feeling the vibration on her clit she threw her head back and swore loudly in Mefni. It was too much. She couldn’t hold back anymore. “DWIGHT!” She screamed to the ceiling, her orgasm slamming into her violently. It was so powerful that she nearly blacked out, holding onto Dwight for dear life as she rode out the tumultuous waves of pleasure, continuing to moan in just about every language she knew.

Dwight continued to thrust, helping Leera ride out her climax. Between Leera’s body tightening around him in a near vice and the vibrations from his own thumb it wasn’t long until he found his peak. “Shit, Leera!” he exclaimed, his hips stuttering only slightly as he released deep inside his mate’s body. He gave a growl as he continued to pump in and out of her, wanting the feeling to last as long as possible.

Leera gasped as she felt Dwight fill her, not removing her legs from around him just yet. She took a moment to catch her breath, looking up at him. She reached for his tie again and pulled him down for a kiss. “You are incredible, my dearheart.”

Dwight chuckled, continuing to give Leera soft kisses on her nose and cheeks. “I’m just trying to keep up,” he told her, holding her gaze for a moment so she got the message.

Carefully he pulled out of her, running a hand through his sweaty hair. He quickly pulled his pants up before gathering Leera in his arms and carrying her over to the nearby couch, holding her in his lap. “I really don’t deserve you.”

Leera shook her head, nuzzling his face. “Every time you say that I’m very tempted to quote Admiral Denivar.”

Dwight huffed. “You would.” It’s not about deserve. It’s about what you believe. It still sounded like some Disney Channel hogwash. However, he couldn’t help but think about how the girl who wouldn’t stop saying had every right to call for his head. Hell, she hadn’t even done the next expected thing by locking him up and throwing away the key.

He leaned into the woman in his arms, taking one of her hands in his as he kissed her jaw. He’d hold on to it this time. He wouldn’t waste his second chance. He hold on to all of this with everything he had. For some damn reason, even after everything he did, so many people had put their faith in him.

“Happy birthday, dearheart,” Leera murmured, enjoying very much being held in Dwight’s arms like this.

Dwight smiled. “Thank you, Firefly. I look forward to many, many more birthdays with you.”

He would not let it be in vain.

#**orange you glad**#smut #((did someone say borthday sex?))#(( heh heh))

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