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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

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nebbyy · 8 months ago

Note

Please write a fanfic about King Baldwin IV from KoH, where he fell in love with female reader. The plot is up to you. Please make it a serious love story with slight fluff 🤗🤭

Baldwin IV x reader - Life always comes down to a game of chess

A/N: You have no idea how much I love you anon, this was one of the prompts I already wanted to write omgggg!! For this fic I kinda got inspired by this painting (which, for everyone interested, it’s “La belle dame sans merci” by Frank Dicksee), and you’ll see how and why reading it;)

Summary: King Baldwin IV receives an offer from an Italian nobleman to marry his daughter; unsure of whether to accept or not this compelling offer, Baldwin decides to do what he does best…

Warning: there are some mentions of christianity and religious references along with some hints at the misogynistic ideologies of the time (about the woman being “owned” by the dominant male figure in her life) ((I don’t condone this ideology at all but I thought it’d be fitting to add it anyway to give some accuracy to it)).

Word count: 2637

King Baldwin couldn’t quite wrap his head around you. The day that he was informed of your engagement, he felt himself quite skeptical of the idea of marrying someone. After all, ever since his leprosy had been diagnosed he had to get used to the idea of living a life of solitude, forced into a lifelong chastity, for no sane man would ever marry off their daughter to a leper. With time, he had found solace in nurturing his own knowledge and virtue, elevating himself to a level of wisdom that very few could boast at his young age.

During the following days, the young king's mind was plagued with thoughts, considerations he was making to weigh the choice. The benefits of marrying Lady Y/N were many, first and foremost securing a connection to the land of Italian speakers, allowing for easier trafficking of crusaders arriving in the Holy Land, not to mention the abundance that would be the young lady's dowry. And not only did marrying her mean strengthening the economical side of his reign, but it also meant giving the impression to the public that the king's health condition was improving to such an extent that he considered that to be an ideal time to marry. His most trusted men and all of his advisors kept repeating to him, marrying Lady Y/N would’ve been comparable to a blessing.

But despite all the benefits this union seemed like it would bring, Baldwin continued to hesitate to make a decision. What left him so undecided was the possibility that this was some kind of deception, a conspiracy orchestrated against him, hidden in the form of the most convenient of marriages. It was up to him to decide whether it was worth taking these risks in favor of the benefits that would come if his concerns turned out to be unfounded.

Like everything else in his life, this choice came down to a game of chess…

It was this idea that prompted him to make a decision. Baldwin had a messenger called, to be sent to Pisa to give the news to Lord Y/F/N that the king wished to report his decision to him live, at his court. For the lord to arrive it would have to wait, but Baldwin has always been a man of exceptional patience.

Four months passed, when at the dawn of Lent it was announced by a Pisan messenger that Lord Y/F/N and his daughter had come to Acre, and would soon be coming to Jerusalem. Another week passed before father and daughter, riding two white horses and accompanied by an escort of knights arrived at the royal palace.

When he first saw you, Baldwin could have sworn he saw Mary himself. You walked with such grace that you almost seemed to float. Your face looked serene, despite the anxiety that had been devouring you from within ever since the day the invitation from the king of Jerusalem reached you; a blue veil covered your hair, framing your face and falling over your shoulders. You bowed to Baldwin as was proper to do before a king, yet he felt so tempted to interrupt you, prevent you from bowing to him, perhaps even bowing to you himself.

At that moment he felt like Lancelot before Guinevere, completely mesmerized by your beauty, one who seemed more fit to an angel than a woman. But, he gave no sign of his true emotional state; after all, a gorgeous woman does not mean she can be fit to serve as queen. Her answer will be decided when she has had a chance to hear you speak, away from the judgmental stares of the court, free from any influence that might change what you really think.

As the sun shone bright in the sky, the banquet took place inside of the palace. The king excused himself before going to eat by himself in his chambers as usual, leaving his guests in the company of his sisters and his court. Loud chatter filled the room, goblets were raised to get more wine poured, courses flowed onto the set table, a tribute to thank Lord Y/F/N for making such a journey to fulfill the king's request. All this noise, yet in your ears all became quiet when a servant approached your chair, whispering a few simple words, "The king has requested your presence at dinner."

Your blood froze in your veins in surprise, and you could almost feel your father's thrill as you rose from your seat, having the servant guide you toward the king's study. Walking through the halls of the palace, you could do nothing but feel so small in comparison, you almost seemed to disappear, enveloped by the magnificence of everything around you that, if all went well, you would have called your own.

You were brought back to reality when the heavy doors of the king's room were opened by the two guards who stood at his sides. An enveloping fragrance, a mixture of myrrh and frankincense filled your senses with a feeling of serenity, an almost familiar feeling. In the center of the room, a hooded figure, dressed in silk as white as snow. "Come forward, my lady. I apologize for my absence at the table but," she interjected for a moment, rising from her seat and revealing her face-or at least, what was not covered by the veil-"many might find my appearance somewhat...disturbing during a meal." He chuckled a little at that last part. You wondered if irony had become a kind of means for him to soften his own hellish condition.

As soon as he turned around you could not help but study the appearance of what will hopefully be your future husband. Rumors about his condition had been swirling since the day he was crowned, so you had been prepared to be confronted with a horrifically disfigured man. Instead, although part of his face was covered by the thin veil, it was like an instinct for you to try to study his features. You could vaguely make out the golden hair that adorned his face, although it was covered by the veil. His voice had intrigued you; it sounded so jovial and yet so deep. A melody that sang of the young monarch's endeavors. It intrigued you, you wondered what his lips looked like, whether they matched the sound of his voice.

But what really caught your interest were his eyes. They were blue, but of a color so deep, so intense, it reminded you of tales you had heard about the northern seas, of the waters that dark and deep seemed to beckon sailors, to lead them to drown within them. Likewise you felt mesmerized by such intensity. And you wondered, how much of this would remain the same as his illness progressed.

You recovered from that momentary trance, wasting no time to bow, but this time Baldwin stopped you before you were able to bow more than your head: "Don't bow, please. Such reverences are not necessary here." You looked at him a little dumbfounded, but despite the king's unusual attitude you did not object. He stepped to the side, revealing a finely decorated chessboard, with all the pawns already set in place. "Do you play?" he asked softly, and you finally mustered up the courage to speak "It's been some time since I last did," as you approached the table, taking your seat opposite Baldwin. He took his seat again, and for the first time in your life you found yourself face to face with a king.

You quickly realised that he had assigned you the white pawns, the small courtesy of moving you first. You took a moment to think of an initial strategy, and moved your first pawn. A horse. Baldwin raised his eyebrows, surprised by your decision. "Aren't you going to move the pawns first?" You kept your gaze on the chessboard, partly out of respect and partly out of fear, still unsure why the king would call you to his chambers, if indeed it was all just to have a playmate. "I always prefer to start with the horse. I like to think that the pawns would be frightened to charge against the enemy without a knight to guide them." You looked up, meeting his eyes that studied you intrigued. Chuckling at what you had just said, you continued, shaking your head slightly, "Forgive me, it was just a silly thought."

"Not at all, my lady," he replied, studying your every detail, "I find it fascinating." It was his turn to move, and as per rule, he moved one of the pawns, the one in front of the queen. "So you think good leadership is better than letting the individual decide for himself?" There was a spark that had lit up in his eyes, something playful. It was clear that you were intriguing him, surprisingly in your eyes, since you had been instructed to stay behind your father's shadow, not to express your thoughts or externalize your ideologies.

Everything had to be perfect, one could not risk the futile mind of a young woman ruining the marriage that would have been so beneficial to her dukedom, but above all to her family. Yet at that moment she felt that expressing what resided in her own mind was exactly what Baldwin wanted from her. Something lit up in her too, and he in turn caught the same spark in her eyes. Could it be that she had figured out the trick...?

Another pawn moved, it was Baldwin's turn to move again. Your eyes seldom parted from each other, just for that moment necessary to make your own move. "Independence is not always what benefits a man. Certainly, it is tempting, but in moments of indecision it risks leading to oblivion. An infantryman needs a leader, a young man who is lost in the woods needs a hunter to guide him out..." Another move, the white bishop points directly at the black king "...an indecisive man needs an outside opinion to make his decision."

You smiled, and like the sweetest of plagues you infected him too. You had deciphered his little deception. An innocent deception, with the purpose of seeing with your own eyes how you, in a condition so similar to what is the duty of a sovereign, would have acted.

After all, his life always came down to a game of chess....

"So you understood..." Baldwin whispered, again sitting in his place. For the first time in his memory, someone had managed to leave him speechless. His witty mind seemed to have died out all of a sudden, the knight in him unarmed by the woman sitting in front of him. Maybe the deception wasn’t as occult as he had planned, or maybe this young lady was really able to stand up to him.

You smiled at him proudly, be proud of your intuition but also relieved that your thought had not turned out to be foolish. Your pride had removed from your mind every rule, every admonition that had been given to you from the moment you set foot in the Holy Land; your mind was now like a river in flood, finally free to flow out according to its natural course. "I do not blame you, my lord. I realize that this is a difficult choice for you, and that the factors at stake go far beyond your individual will."

"And what do you think about that?" Your smile acquired a bittersweet scent, and you answered without almost hesitation: "I am only a woman, my will is that of my father and it will be of my husband. My family prays that this role will be filled by you, and for this to happen I have been instructed to be fit to reign at your side."

“That I can clearly see, but what truly urges me is to know what your own will says. If we were to marry, you would be the bride to a wretched man, one whose fate has already been announced by God. My demise won't be far off, you’ll be left a widow in a foreign land. And before this… curse gets the better of me, there is no saying that it won’t get to you too. If it did, you would suffer the same fate I had been given.”

It took you a moment to let his words sink into your mind. He spoke the truth, a future with him would be filled with sickness and uncertainty; you would have to live in a court far from your home, where everyone was waiting for the king’s death like a flock of crows flying above a dying man. You took a deep breath, feeling as everything came down to this very moment. “I won’t lie to you, my lord, the future that awaits me while standing by your side is not an easy one by any means, and I’m very much aware of that. I do not expect my future to be easy, for it would be an excess of greed. So if I can have a saying in my own future, I’d like to say that I would much rather all the time that is given to me by the Lord standing by the side of a man filled with virtue, than by the side of a man too full of himself to see anything just an inch away from his reflection. There would be no greater honor for me than to stand by your side, for as long as you still have to live, my lord. And if I ever was to catch this disease as well, then I would have no other words to say other than God wills it.“

At your words, the young king had to shake himself up, now more than ever necessary for him to say something, anything really. “For you, my lady, I shall always be just Baldwin.” His tone was softer than ever, a soft breeze that reached to you and whispered I am but yours now. It was unsaid, but decided. Once this meeting would be over, the king would come to your father, and confirm his decision to accept the proposal. Only problem was, this meeting seemed to have become endless. What was supposed to be a quick meal, accompanied by a game of chess, turned into a lively exchange of political views, then silly childhood anecdotes, then again into a walk in the inner courtyard of the palace. Baldwin tried hard to keep you in his presence for as long as was deemed decent for an unmarried man and woman. He kept you with him as long as he could, and when that was no longer possible, he led you back into the great hall, gently holding your hand over his. Soon after the announcement of your engagement, the wedding was set to happen during the following Easter, and the banquet made in honor of his guests was prolonged until the sun had been long set, this time in honor of his betrothed.

You think back to that day fondly, as you lay on your bed, in the comfort of silky sheets and soft pillows. One of your hands holds your head while the others traces the patterns of the scars in your husband’s face that have considerably worsened during the years. Aside from the bed, sitting on a table, forgotten as long as the night reigned over Jerusalem, were two crowns, along with two chess pawns. A white queen and a black king. Both came from the set that had been used the day the two of you met, a reminder for Baldwin of the day God had merged your destinies in one.

A/N: wowww that came out longer than I though oopss. ANYWAY, this was my interpretation of your request, anon, hope you like it!! Also, for everyone who’s gonna read this, feel free to leave any constructive criticism since this is my first fic and I would like to improve a looot more in my writing skills. That’s it now have a nice day y’all <3<3

#kingdom of heaven #king baldwin iv #baldwin iv #king baldwin iv x reader #king baldwin x reader #fluff #historical fiction #anon ask #requests open #writers on tumblr #my fic #writing requests

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candycandy00 · 4 months ago

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HI❤️ for your 2k follower event can you write

Character: sukuna

Setting: church

Spice: NSFW

Mood: Dark

Kink: Praise kink+breeding

🙏🙏🙏

Dancing With the Devil - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. AU. Sukuna as a priest. Praise. Creampie. Voyeurism. Humiliation.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k followers event! Any and all feedback is adored! Dividers by @benkeibear!

“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

The priest on the other side of the wooden grate-covered window greets you in his smooth voice. “Tell me your sins.”

You know who sits only inches away from you, separated only by the thinnest of walls in the confessional. Father Sukuna is a new priest at the church, having only arrived six weeks ago.

His appearance was quite a shock to the congregation. Pink, slicked back hair, eyes that were as red as a demon’s, and a huge muscled frame all turned heads. But most of all, it was the intricate pattern of black tattoos lining his face that had everyone talking.

What kind of person had he been before joining the priesthood? That was the question on everyone’s mind. But one of the other priests was quick to remind everyone that Father Sukuna had turned away from a life of sin, and the Bible taught you all to “judge not”.

So while some people still wondered and whispered about him, most people in the church accepted him without asking questions about his past.

However, you’ve solved the mystery, entirely by accident.

The first time you saw him, you thought his tattoos were somewhat familiar, but you couldn’t quite place where you had seen them before. Then one day you visited the church to drop off some fresh lemonade for the men working on some repairs on the outside of the building.

It was a blazing hot summer day, and as you stood chatting with one of the men, Father Sukuna peeled off his T-shirt to get some relief from the heat. Your eyes were instantly drawn to his sweat slicked body, incredibly well sculpted muscles rippling in the haze of the sun. And those tattoos.

You recognized them at that moment, and a deep red blush spread over your face.

Almost a year ago, a friend who knew you had a thing for tattoos sent you a video to watch online. It was a porn video featuring a handsome, well built man with black tattoos lining his whole body. His face was blurred out for some reason, but the rest of him wasn’t. You had watched it, enraptured by the way his body moved, way too many times to count.

There was also a woman in the video, and you had grown wet watching her struggle to take the man’s impossibly huge cock, enormous even by porn star standards. When she moaned and writhed beneath him, you imagined you were her.

You tried to find out who the man was, only so you could look for more videos featuring him, but his name remained a mystery. But by searching for terms like “male porn star black tattoos huge dick”, you found two more videos he’d done. Both also blurred his face.

Countless nights you spent watching them, one hand in your panties, between your quivering thighs, wishing you knew what name to moan.

You would know those tattoos anywhere, would be able to recognize that chiseled chest and back lined with black ink if you were half blind.

The next few days, he was all you could think about. When he gave a sermon, his delicious voice carrying through the speakers and filling the church, you pictured him naked, fucking you right there in front of the entire congregation.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’ve never been very devout in your religion, but you still grew up fairly sheltered by your religious parents, so you never really had a “wild phase”. The “wildest” you got was sneakily watching porn after your parents went to bed. Even now, living in your own apartment, you have a pretty boring life.

But Father Sukuna brings out every naughty fantasy you’ve ever had, right in the middle of church, of all places! So now that you’re in the confessional, inches away from him, talking about sin, you can’t hold back.

“I’ve been watching pornographic videos online,” you confess.

“Ah, I see,” he says. “It’s hard to resist that temptation. But with God’s help, you can turn away from your lust.”

“There’s three videos in particular that I watch all the time,” you add, growing bolder. “I’ve been watching them for nearly a year, and I can’t stop.”

This time he hesitates for a moment. Is he catching on? Then he asks, “What makes these three so attractive to you?”

You lick your lips and take a breath, then press on. “It’s the man who stars in all three. He’s mesmerized me. He’s very handsome, and his body is covered in tattoos…”

This time he has to know exactly what you’re saying. You wonder if he’s embarrassed, if he’ll ask you not to tell anyone.

Instead, he’s sleek voice carries through the grate, “Do you touch yourself while you watch them?”

Your face heats up. You were not expecting that question! But after only a moment of hesitation, you reply, “Yes, Father. All the time.”

“Describe it to me.”

You blink. “Huh?”

His voice is so close, so honeyed, as he says, “Describe how you touch yourself, what you’re thinking when you do it, how it feels. Your confession needs to be thorough.”

Oh god. Can you really say stuff like that to the very man you’ve been masturbating to? But your panties are growing damp as you shift nervously in your seat.

“I… I watch the videos in bed, on my phone… and I reach one hand down to… touch myself.”

“How? Where? Leave no details out,” he says in an authoritative tone.

You take a deep breath, fighting back your embarrassment. Your face feels like it’s on fire. “I rub… my clit, with one finger.”

“Describe it more. Paint a picture for me,” he tells you.

Your own voice is getting shaky. “I spread my legs open on the bed… hold the phone with one hand so I can watch the videos, and move my other hand down between my legs. I dip my fingers between the folds… to smear my wetness around… then I use one finger to rub circles into my clit.”

“And what do you think about while doing this?” Father Sukuna asks.

Your breaths are shallow and quick. “I imagine the man with tattoos… forcing his giant cock inside me while I whimper underneath him.”

There’s a pause, then he speaks again, not a hint of surprise or struggle in his silky voice. “And do you cum?”

“Y-yes. Everytime. It feels so good, Father. I can’t stop.”

He hums as if thinking deeply, then says, “This sounds like a serious problem for you. I think you need some further counseling. Can you come back tonight and see me for a private session?”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. You know what he means, what he’s asking, and you’re afraid there’s going to be a sticky puddle on the seat when you get up.

“Yes, Father Sukuna! I can come. Back, I mean. Tonight.” It all came out sounding rather breathless.

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, and your fate is sealed.

When you return to the church later that night, both terrified and excited, you find it empty. You’re not sure where Father Sukuna’s office is, or if he’s even waiting for you there, so you walk down the aisle toward the altar. Should you offer up a prayer asking for forgiveness?

Before you can decide, you hear a loud clicking sound behind you. Turning around, you see Father Sukuna standing at the door, locking it up tight. You swallow a lump in your throat.

He turns to face you, giving you a smile as he steps toward you. “I’ve locked all the doors. I’m the only one here tonight. We’ll be discussing private, sensitive topics, after all.”

Nothing he’s saying is inappropriate, there’s nothing threatening about his movements, but you still somehow feel like a fly caught in a spider’s web.

“Th-thank you, Father,” you say, avoiding eye contact. This is the first time you’ve been face to face with him since your humiliating confession, and your face is already hot with shame. You can’t believe you told him how you touch yourself! You’ve kept that a secret from literally everyone, even your closest friends.

He moves past you and sits down on a pew, his motions smooth and graceful. He’s a man who knows exactly how to move his body. He pats the spot next to him and says, “Sit down.”

He has a way of saying things that makes you want to jump to obey every command. You walk over and sit down beside him, perhaps a little too close. You can smell his cologne.

He turns in the seat to face you, one arm resting on the back of the pew, close enough for his fingers to touch your hair if he wants. “Now, tell me again about your sinful lust. You desire this man in the videos, the one with tattoos?”

Flustered, you look away from him, nodding your head shyly. It’s so much harder to talk about this when you can look him in the eyes!

“And if he were here right now, what would you want him to do to you?”

You look at him sharply, eyes wide. “Huh? Uh… I don’t….”

He leans closer, red eyes boring into you. “Be honest. Confess your sinful thoughts.”

Your voice comes out in a breathless whisper. “I would want him to fuck me.”

A grin breaks across his face, a gleam in those red eyes. To you, he doesn’t look like a priest now at all, but a devil sent to destroy you.

“Such a sinful girl,” he murmurs, scooting even closer. “Is your pussy wet right now?”

You jerk away from him in shock. You’ve never heard a priest speak this way before. “No! I’m… it’s not!”

He’s staring into your eyes. “Really? Show me.”

Your breath catches in your throat. “What?”

“Show me your pussy. I’ll see if you’re a liar as well as lustful.”

Oh fuck. Oh god. You know you’re soaking wet. The thought of this gorgeous priest looking at your dripping pussy has you heating up with both shame and arousal.

Slowly, you pull your modest skirt up your thighs, bunching it at your waist. Then, breathing fast, heart racing, you slide your panties down, lifting your hips from the pew to pull the silky fabric all the way down your legs. They fall off your ankles, and for a moment you sit there, blushing, not looking at Father Sukuna.

“Open your legs so I can see how sinful you are,” he commands, again with that tone of authority.

You carefully spread your legs apart, and Father Sukuna moves from the pew to squat in front of you, giving himself a clear and perfect view of your bare, glistening pussy. He makes a soft “tsk” sound. “You lied. Your pussy is drenched. Your sins keep growing, but I can help you.”

Finally gaining the courage to look at him despite your deep burning shame, your eyes teary, you ask, “How?”

His eyes shift to your face. “Have you heard that some parents, upon catching their child smoking a cigarette, will force them to smoke a whole pack to get them to stop?”

You nod. You have heard of that before.

He grins. “That’s how I’m going to help you. To make you turn away from your lustful behavior, I’m gonna fuck your pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.”

You inhale sharply as he stands up and pulls his priestly robes off, revealing those beautiful tattoos covering his torso. He unbuttons his pants, and you watch with anxious, rapt attention as he pulls out the beast you’ve been waiting to finally see.

It’s even bigger in person.

Your mouth goes dry as you try to figure out how this is going to work. You’re inexperienced, having never had a serious boyfriend and being watched carefully by your parents until you moved out. The massive organ between Father Sukuna’s legs is intimidating, but god do you want this. You’ve thought about how he would feel inside you for almost a year now.

While you sit there, practically frozen to the spot, he removes your shirt and bra, so that the only thing left is your wadded up skirt around your waist. Then he pushes you back in the pew so that you’re lying on your back, lifting one of your legs up and hooking it over the back of the pew while the other dangles off the front. This leaves you spread completely open for him, your shamefully wet pussy exposed to his gaze.

Your chest is heaving with your rapid breaths as he climbs on top of you, his huge frame dwarfing yours. One of his hands squeezes your breast, his rough palm brushing over your sensitive nipple. Then he moves down, his thick, warm fingers opening your slippery folds. He circles your clit with one finger, making your hips buck slightly off the pew.

“Is this how you touch yourself while watching my videos?” he asks. It’s the first time he’s acknowledged that he’s the man in those videos, and even though you knew it already, the admission sends a thrill through your body.

“Y-yes,” you say, your legs beginning to tremble as he teases your little nub.

His hand slides down a bit, and then you feel one of his fingers pressing inside you. It’s big, and you feel like it’s stretching you already.

“So tight… Are you a virgin?”

Too embarrassed to speak, you nod and look away.

He laughs. “I can’t believe a virgin has been rubbing her little clit and cumming to my videos.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, and you feel his finger curl slightly within you. “Don’t close your eyes. I’m trying to get this cute little pussy ready to take my cock.”

You open your eyes and look at him just as he pushes a second finger inside. You squeak out a strange little sound, surprised by the sudden fullness. It doesn’t hurt, but you feel a sense of pressure, and your pussy clenches his fingers.

He lightly pumps them in and out, making an obscene squelching sound that echoes in the church. With his free hand, he rubs your clit, making you let out small gasping moans at the pleasure. You had no idea his fingers could feel so good!

Just as you feel like you might cum any second, he pulls his fingers out, leaving you feeling empty. You whine by reflex, looking up pleadingly as he licks his fingers clean.

“You’re being so good for me, so I’ll give you what you’ve been wanting,” he says, pulling your hips into his lap and getting into position. “This might hurt a little, but you can take it, right?”

You look at him with big, wet eyes. “Yeah… I can take it,” you say, your voice quivering.

He grins like a demon about to devour your soul, then you feel the tip of that rock hard monster of a cock press into your entrance. You shudder, hissing at the stretch as he keeps pushing in. Oh fuck it’s still going in!

He moves in slowly, inch by inch, going deeper than you thought possible. When you wince, he reaches down and rubs your clit again to ease your discomfort. Soon, he’s all the way in, his firm body pressing against yours. After a moment to allow you to catch your breath, he begins moving.

With the grace and strength of a tiger, he moves over you, thrusting in with smooth, practiced motions. He knows exactly how to make you feel good, to hit the spots that have you moaning and gripping his tattooed shoulders.

For months you watched him fuck other women in his videos, always imagining being them. You wanted to feel what they felt as they cried out in pleasure, to know what his powerful body felt like on top of you. Now you finally know, and you’ll never be able to give this up.

Your arms wrap around his neck as he leans down closer, kissing your lips. He tastes like sin itself, and you wonder if he’s dragging you straight to hell. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.

His thrusts go deeper, harder, until you’re crying out his name, tears in your eyes, desperate for release. Three more thrusts later, each one hitting hyper sensitive spots, and you’re cumming around his cock, clenching him as tightly as you can.

You look up at him through the haze of pleasure, and he’s wearing that devilish grin. “Good girl,” he says. “I knew you could take me.”

You can’t even form words, only nodding weakly while his cock is still buried inside you. When he begins thrusting again, it’s faster, rougher, until he grunts, squeezing his eyes shut and tossing his head back. Before you can say a word, he cums directly into your womb in thick spurts.

When he pulls out, you can feel his cum leaking out of you, and you’re reminded of similar shots from his videos. You drop your head back on the pew, exhausted.

He’s hovering over you, looking down with a disappointed expression. “Don’t fall asleep now. We have all night. I intend to fuck all the sinful thoughts right out of you.”

You raise up in alarm. “Wait… I don’t think I can handle any more!”

He’s already pushing your legs apart again. “You can handle it. If you’ve watched my videos then you know how much stamina I have. Try and keep up.”

You groan, realizing this is going to be a very long night.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #x reader #jjk smut #candys2kevent

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hup123hup123slapslap · 9 months ago

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So a thought has been kicking around my head for a bit...what if Helio knew exactly what he was signing up for by making Kristen his chosen one?

It has always struck me as odd that when describing Doreen in Helioic heaven, Brennan mentioned her flirting with men and women. It also strikes me as odd that Kristen never got any pushback from Helio about turning her back on him. Even if he was similarly 'out of the picture' like sol was while Arthur was wrecking havoc, Kristen's powers should have faded when she fully committed to not worshipping him. You need to worship a god to get powers, and this is emphasized heavily in the latest episode. Kristen worshipping the vague idea of religion but Definitely Not Helio just doesn't cut it. Sure, taking away a PCs powers wasn't really in the cards in season one, but Brennan works very well and very caringly with what he has to establish as canon.

Kristen was looking for a reason to drop Helio from the get-go. His frat boy appearance and non-answer to a nearly impossible question didn't truly matter at the core of her feelings. She wanted an out from the prison she was trapped in with the Helioic faith, even if she didn't realize it fully. She had tension with her mom and her ideals from the scene one! She wanted to connect with people the church actively shunned. Helio was never the true problem.

Now, gods are shaped by their worshippers. So on some level Helio is shaped by people with shitty ideals. But there's still a foothold of good, especially if there are out and proud gays in heaven. Especially if Kristen Applebees of all people is the chosen one.

When you have worshippers misinterpreting your whole deal, going with Sol's shitty messaging and transferring it onto you and using it for bad things, what can you do as a god? Because you ARE what they say you are. So how can you fight back?

Well. You make your chosen one someone that embodies your true heart. Someone that can actually turn the tides of your worship.

There is an emphasis on tracker reinventing and revitalizing her religion. Changing it for the better. Taking the old and not tossing it out, but making it better.

Isn't that what Kristen struggles with the most? That's what she needs to learn how to do.

Tracker also established that she can worship multiple gods when she helped with Yes?. Kristen doesn't need to settle for one even if she (fingers crossed) brings Kassandra back.

Because the season opened with the slow apocalypse of endless night. Endless daytime would end similarly. There has to be a balance. They are two sides of the same coin. Day and night. The surety of the sun and the doubt of the shadows.

Kristen wants both. And she can fucking have it if she decides to.

Ally once said they appreciate that the enemy is always the church. Organized religion. Kristen is perfect for disorganized religion though. Chill frat boy vibes and anxious doubts and the ultimate message of 'just do your best'.

I think religious trauma is a compelling, close to the heart topic for a lot of people. And some turn away from religion entirely and wash their hands of it. But some people don't. Kristen is a cleric. She can't. She wants a god, she wants answers, and she just can't find them in the established community she was raised in. That doesn't mean the core of her religion was wrong. The church was. So you take the religion and you harness it in a way that means something to you.

Maybe Kristen being desperate enough to invite Helio back into her life is what this has all been leading to.

She can remake a god. She's done it before. Because Kassandra was good at the core. Maybe Helio can be too.

#dimension 20 #kristen applebees #junior year #fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #i come from a religious upbringing and am very much not religious as a result #but dang people from a traumatic religious upbringing that maintain belief in the god but not the toxic teachings are very cool and valid

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wandanatswitch · 1 month ago

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Hour of the Owl

Pairing: Dowager!Queen Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst w/ happy ending

Summary: “Love can become both a sanctuary and a peril”

Warnings: NSFW +18 minors DNI, age gap (reader is aprox 18, Alicent is aprox 37), step-cest?, mentions of targcest, fingering? (reader receiving) oral (reader receiving), semi-public sex, mentions of infidelity (not between the main characters), religious shame and guilt, mention of suicidal thoughts, emotional dependency/obsession, mentions of homophobia, kinda? Toxic relationship, manipulation, I kinda wrote the reader from a BPD perspective so she could have some traits. Let me know if there's anything missing! NO DANCE OF DRAGONS AU! Note: English is not my first language! And this is my first time writing a fic so please let me know what you think <3 Also there is very few use of Y/N!

Words: 2.9K

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ⁺

“May I join you, Princess?”

The oh so familiar voice echoes through the empty gardens of the red keep perturbs your quiet late night stroll.

“Of course, Your Grace…” You reply while looking at the bushes filled with different coloured roses. “Is something the matter?”

You wished to deny her, you really did… but as always, you failed to do so, you just could not bring yourself to say no to her, nor to reject her presence, the one that made you feel that stupid agonising passion that made you wish it was possible that two people were one. You wanted to be binded to her. You wanted to lay down under the same tree where you kiss her so desperately, and merge with her so you could never be separated from one another ever again.

She approaches ever so carefully, moving her hand slightly forward, making your hands faintly touch… An innocent mistake is what she would answer if you reproach her.

“Not at all” She gently caresses the edge of the rose petals in front of you. “I simply wished to know if you have received any letter from my son” A lie. “I know i have not received one since he left” Another lie. You knew for a fact that Aemond had written to the Dowager Queen, he told you himself in the only letter he had written to you, and you had heard Princess Helaena trying and failing to tell Aegon about what their brother had written to their mother… “Mother said he was vague , but that he was well… he wrote that he is not bored as he expected to be and that he is actually having a good time…” is what you heard Helaena say, but you stopped listening when Aegon groaned at his sister-wife’s words.

“What is your need to lie to me, Your Grace?” You did not look up from the flowers, you did not dare. “You always lie, at this point i find myself believing that lying is the only thing you know how to do”

That gained you a sigh from her “You are right, I apologize…” she whispers “I just wanted to be alone with you—”

“Please, do not say anything else and just leave” you cut her off in a hostile tone but whispered voice “You said it yourself, we are sinful. This is a sin. We are wrong and the Gods will punish us if we do not stop whatever twisted and vile-” she cut you off when she placed her hand on your cheek, caressing it gently with her thumb.

“I know, my darling but—” she tries to plead, but her words get cut off again. You step back, causing her hand to drop back to her side. “You always do this!” you whisper loudly “You always do this! And it is not fair that you get to treat me like a stupid toy that you only wish to hurt!” Tears are rolling down your face at this point, much to your dislike.

“I am so stupidly tired of this, and I simply cannot bear this anymore…” You closed your eyes and tried to be strong and take a deep breath, but it came out shaky and broken. “...I have two children, Alicent… What am I supposed to tell them when they see me cry in front of them because I just can’t take it anymore? That their grandmother's favorite pastime is to hurt me…?

“Princess, you are speaking foolishly—” The Dowager Queen tries to say calmly, but once again, she finds her words being cut off.

“Am I?!” You are shouting at this point. The anger, the frustration, the pain, the hurt, everything, finally finding a way out. “Yes you are!” The older woman shouted, matching your tone. “My goal has never been to hurt you! Your pain is the last thing I would ever wish for! Ever!” “You are a liar! You have proven yourself to be—”

“I do not lie to hurt you, I lie so I do not lose you!” She starts to lower her voice, although her tone is still full of frustration. “I love you, you know that very well” “No you do not, if anything you despise me” The Targaryen princess tries to say firmly, but her voice wavers from the tears she has spilled “You would have to despise someone to hurt them like you have hurt me” You look at Alicent right in the eyes “Maybe is not me who you wish to hurt. Maybe you wish to hurt my mother and I am nothing more than a discardable piece to accomplish it.” Your breath quickens, your heart hurts and you feel like dying… you feel as if nothing matters anymore, and at this very moment you just wish to die.

“You just cannot stand the fact that my mother is Queen, can you? And you are not only taking your frustrations out on me, but you are also trying to hurt her through me. That is what I am to you, right?”

“I will not allow you to say such idiotic, and simply untrue words” Alicent is angry. Angry at herself, angry at the Gods… but she is not angry at you, not fully at least. How can she blame you for thinking that?

She should have been smarter about this whole relationship, the Hightower thought to herself. She should have never given into her sinful desires, but the want overpowered her… If she didn't know better, she would have thought that you were the reward the Gods had given her for enduring more than fifteen years of not only being Viserys' wife, but also a Queen… Turns out you were not her reward, but her damnation.

“I love you, Y/N” She states, her voice unwavering “I do. I love you more than i have ever loved anything before” The auburn haired woman lets out a tired sigh before walking closer to you. She lifts a hand to place at your waist out of pure habit, but she decides against it when she sees the anger and hurt still lingering in the younger girl's eyes. “I do not feel angry at the thought of Rhaenyra sitting on the throne, I promise you that. If anything, I am relieved… I do not have as much responsibility as I had before… And I do have more liberties too, the eyes of the court are not on me anymore, at least most of the time they are not… If Aegon had been crowned king, most of the responsibility still would have been thrown at me, besides I know he would have not been a good king…” Alicent fidgets with her hands as she continues “And the stupid anger i had for your mother, the foolish one sided fight i had with her for years… is over. I know the tension remains, but I promise you, Y/N, I do not hate her, nor do I wish for her downfall or to cause her pain. I wish her well in her reign.” The older woman’s hands grip the fabric of her dress in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. “So no, you are not “a discardable piece”, Princess” The Princess does not know what to say, so she ultimately decides to sit at a nearby bench in complete silence. “My dear…” Alicent whispers to the younger woman. “I do not believe you.” The princess does not look up from the ground. “I do not believe a word of what you just said.” Alicent has to swallow a sob, but she cannot hold the tears any longer.

“...Why not?” The Hightower whispers as she tries to wipe her falling tears.

“Why…!?” You stand up from the bench and walk towards her, “Why do I not believe you, you ask?! Because like I said before, you have proven yourself to be a liar, Alicent!” The Princess looks up in an attempt to stop more tears to fall, but quickly realizes that it was a futile attempt to stop what she cannot control. “And because you have never once told me about what you just said. You never open up or tell me how you feel! So how am I supposed to believe you?!” The older woman tightens her lips before speaking up. “Alright. You want me to open up? i will.” Alicent steps closer to you and lifts both of her hands to place them on your waist, and this time she decides not to stop the action. “I wish I was born a man so that I could have you like your husband has you. I wish that I was a man so that loving you was not a sin, but I have slowly come to accept that I would gladly be damned to any of the seven hells if it means that I get to have you, to love you, or to even see your face every day. But I still wished that I was born a man… because it is not fair that my own son gets to have you but if I do as much as to touch your hand I will be considered a sinner by the Gods.” She sounds desperate… She looks desperate.

“I wish I was a man, so I could grab you by your waist, and push you against a wall, and kiss you until you stopped breathing, and do it without fear” Her hands move to your hips. “….If I were a man, I would use you, I would spoil you, I would devour you, but above all I would love you without fear” Alicent’s grip tightens against your hips. “Oh, Princess… How I would love you… If only fate would have been kinder…”

You have stayed quiet up until this point, the words you are hearing have both made you feel like the most loved woman in the seven kingdoms, and the most doomed one at the same time. “...I do not want you a man, I want you…” You whisper, but your voice does not lack certainty. “I want you as you are…”

Alicent’s eyes look at your own. She is looking at you with such love and tenderness… the kind that makes you melt and doubt if anyone has ever been loved like that before. “I know, sweetling…” The woman’s right hand moves to your tear stained cheek.

You look at Alicent with a pained expression “I love you” Your hand reaches her cheek as you lean forward for a kiss. You kiss her softly, trying to demonstrate with a kiss all the love you feel for her.

On the other hand, Alicent needs you. She needs to feel you, she needs to taste you, she needs to love you… So she deepens the kiss and squeezes your hips. You break the kiss, but not the distance. As you two look at each other, Alicent’s hands move up from your hips to your back. She wastes no time in starting to undo them with practiced ease. “Alicent—” She finishes unlacing your dress, making it loose on you. “Shhh my dear… We will be fine…” The older woman utters before kneeling on the soft grass and extending her hand to you, a silent invitation.

As soon as you kneel, her hands are on you again, taking off your dress. You gently grab her face and pull her in for a hungry kiss, which makes her moan in your mouth.

The princess’ hands are tangled in the Hightowers' hair, pulling her as close as possible, trying to become one with the woman that she loves oh so dearly.

As soon as your dress is out of the way, and you are only covered by your undergarments, Alicent’s mouth shifts to your collarbone, peppering kisses as she works on removing your undergarments. She was like a woman starved. She needs you, and you need her just as much. When your undergarments are not an obstacle anymore, her mouth reaches your breasts. She kisses the soft flesh with a mix of love and hurry, making your throat release sweet gasps and making your back arch.

Oh Gods, the sounds… They only fueled Alicent’s want more and more, and it did not help that your fingers had started to unlace her dress, making it each second more and more loose.

You needed that damned dress off of her, you needed to take it off of her just as she had taken yours off of you. You needed to feel her bare body against yours. You needed her in the way you have never needed anything else… In fact, you are sure that nobody else has ever experienced this kind of need and want.

Alicent continues worshipping your breasts as if they were deities themselves. Her tongue licks your nipple while her hand massages the other, and the moans that come out of your mouth are inevitable.

You finally manage to take the dress off of her, leaving her only in her undergarments… But still, that was more clothing that you wanted her in. “I think it is a little unfair that you have those on while I am almost completely bare, do you not think so?”

The older woman sits up a little bit, stopping her ministrations on your breasts. “You are right, princess… It is not at all fair” Right after she says those words, she removes the upper part of her undergarments, leaving her chest exposed to you. Your mouth finds itself immediately in her breasts… kissing, biting, licking…

A sweet moan falls from her lips , causing you to softly moan in return.

Alicent gently pushes you to lay on the grass, but not before putting your dress as a blanket for you to lay on, causing you to smile at her caring act. “I love you so much… I did not think it was possible to love this much…” You whisper to her, and those may be the truest words you have ever said.

“I love you too. More than anything” She lays down next to you, and instantly kisses you again while she runs her hands through your body. “You are all I need, and there is no such thing as something that I would not do for you, my sweetest girl”

Alicent’s hand reaches your hips and as soon as she grabs the hem of the bottom part of your undergarments, she slides them down your legs.

“We should go to my chambers… or yours, anyone could see us here—” Your words are stopped when two of her digits rub your clit in the way only she could “Oh Gods…!”

Any thought of getting caught had suddenly vanished from your mind, and instead, it was replaced by pleasure and Alicent’s name.

“No one will see us, my darling” She moves her fingers faster, while her other hand caresses your hair “It is the hour of the owl…” She stops her movements so she can position herself between your legs “And everyone knows that this pacific garden is yours, my love, no one will come, do not worry in vain” She reassures you once she is kneeled in between your legs.

The only response you could give to her was a weak nod, but that quickly changed once her tongue made contact with your core, making you moan her name.

Your hands made their way to Alicent’s hair, tangling themselves between the strands. The only thoughts you had were of Alicent, nothing more, nothing less.

One of Alicent’s hands grips one of your thighs, while the other one travels up and towards your chest.

The Dowager Queen was lost on you. On your taste, on how you feel, on how you sound… This is everything she could ever want.

“Alicent…!” You moan loudly as your back arches, involuntarily searching for more. “Alicent I’m close…!”

The older woman's hand reaches for your own, stopping her movements on your breast , and instead intertwines her fingers with yours.

“Go ahead, my darling” Alicent says without moving away from your clit, softly moaning at the taste.

Your grip on your love’s hair tightens, and your eyes roll back. It felt as if you were on fire, and you never wanted it to end… You moan and gasp Alicent’s name as you reach your climax, your hips bucking up towards your lover’s mouth to ride the last waves of pleasure.

Alicent crawls up and lays next to you… Her hand gently caresses your body as she places a sweet kiss on your lips, when she pulls away she takes her time to admire you… spent, panting, and underneath the moonlight.

“...Run away with me…”

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bradshawssugarbaby · 10 months ago

Text

God, Your Mama and Me (Jake Seresin x Reader)

A/N: told y'all I listened to country music and it inspired me. Inspired by and quotes God, Your Mama and Me by Florida Georgia Line. I'm not religious but that song gets me all heart-eye emoji every time.

pairing: Jake Seresin x reader (I'm 99% sure I kept reader GN the whole time with no mentions of appearance)

content/warnings: reference to God via the song (the line is "no one's ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me"), Jake being adorable and trying his best to be romantic but he's more awkward than he wants to be bc he doesn't do PDA, brief references to potential character death (I promise no one dies)

word count: 1.6k

Jake took you by the hand, running playfully through the sand. Coronado Beach was where he’d taken you for your first date. It was where you’d met, where you spent every free weekend, where you’d meet with his friends at The Hard Deck for drinks on Friday nights and where you’d sit and watch the planes taking off from North Island as you waited for him to come home, not knowing what each day would bring but hoping and praying he’d come home to you safe and sound every time.

For the last three years, Coronado was an integral part of your life. It was where you’d held Jake’s 35th birthday party, a spontaneous beach gathering complete with a cooler of chilled beers and a portable speaker belting out country tunes. Despite the groans from others, the music had a magical effect on the usually reserved Jake, prompting him to join in with spirited, off-key singing every time.

It was where you and Jake had shared your first kiss, where he’d first told you he loved you - a sentence he admitted he never thought he’d say to anyone, swearing up and down he’d lead the bachelor life until he either died or retired, whichever came first. He’d always claim it was because he just “wasn’t the settlin’ type”, but his friends always saw right through it.

“He’s just scared,” Bradley had assured you one day over a beer while Jake tossed darts effortless at the board a few feet out of earshot.

Reading the puzzled look on your face, Natasha hummed playfully as she sipped her drink before raising an eyebrow at you.

“He doesn’t want to settle down because he’s scared,” She and Bradley nodded in unison.

“Yeah, doesn’t wanna leave behind a war widow kinda thing,” Bradley shrugs, “You’d think it’d be me who feels that way considering my dad died when I was literally a toddler, but no, apparently it’s Blondie who’s got the commitment issues.”

The first time Jake referred to you as his girl, the usually chatty Bradley had been rendered speechless, mouth agape while Natasha had choked and sputtered on her beer as she looked wide eyed at Bradley and back at Jake. Jake shrugged it off as if it was nothing, but everyone, even you, knew it was uncharacteristic of him.

The following weekend after stunning his Navy buddies, he’d been called away to the first mission since you’d started dating. You weren’t expecting it, but you got a heartfelt, emotional goodbye from Jake, one that was genuine and raw, a side of him you’d never seen before. He’d hugged you tightly and kissed you slow and sweet, making it last, permanent on your mind in case he didn’t make it back. As he promised you he’d return, you could hear his normally velvety smooth Southern drawl crack as his voice caught in his throat.

When he came home a few weeks later, you’d greeted him with a warm embrace, and he held you tighter than he ever had before, his first true public display of affection towards you. Bradley and Natasha could be heard whispering, while Bob simply looked on smiling, knowing how in love Jake really was, watching as it mirrored Bob’s own relationship with his girlfriend.

“Jake, where are you taking me?”

You laughed as you snapped back to the present, raising an eyebrow at him as he continued to lead you across the sand. His cargo shorts were hugging his hips perfectly, golden-tanned skin from the California sun illuminated in the light of the setting sun. His green eyes were full of a child-like excitement, his signature grin plastered on his face, looking like it couldn’t be wiped off even if you tried.

“Just trust me, ok? You trust me, don’t ya, Sugar?”

“Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Atta girl, c’mon, almost there.”

You shook your head and shot him a playful eyeroll as he continued to guide you along the shore. Your mind flashed back to when you and Jake had first slept together - instead of the playful arrogance, overwhelming confidence and cocky egotistical attitude he gave off around his friends, he was the opposite when it came to loving you. He was gentle, caring, passionate and considerate. He checked in with you, making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it. He was selfless in the way he loved you - making sure you were taken care of in all aspects before he was, and if for whatever reason, his climax came before yours, he made a point to bring you to yours by whatever means necessary.

When Jake asked you to move in with him, the look on your face was one of pure shock and disbelief, you were sure you were dreaming it. Your wide-eyed gaze and raised eyebrows were enough to make Jake laugh, shaking his head at you.

“Now that’s not how I thought you’d react, babe.”

“I’m sorry…I just…can you say it again?”

“Ask you again?”

“Yeah, please?”

“Ok, Sugar, you’re losin’ it, but sure, I want you to move in with me, that sound alright to ya? We both complain we don’t see each other enough, and well, I just feel like it’s time we do somethin’ ‘bout it, right?”

You nodded your head and simply threw your arms around him, letting Jake embrace you tightly as he kissed your cheek. He had his friends help you pack and by the end of that week, you were moved in with him, sharing the little house on base together. His Cowboys jersey hanging in the closet next to your Commanders one - your teams were bitter rivals, and Bradley, who had come from Virginia, your home state, was beyond shocked to see Jake allowing you to wear a Commanders jersey to their Sunday night football watch parties. Bradley, forced to wear a jersey for another team, pouted at Jake.

“How come when I wear my Commanders jersey, I get told to fuck off and stay outside?”

“You don’t look cute in Washington’s colours, Bradshaw,” Jake replied matter of factly as he kissed you on the cheek, leaving Bradley to pout once again.

Jake stopped in front of you, turning his body to face you, bringing you back to reality for another moment. His unwavering grin still on his face, smiling at you as if you were the only sight around him for miles. Your heart melted when he looked at you - it always did - the love he had for you was always evident on his face, his gaze full of admiration and affection for you.

Your eyes widened as Jake went down on one knee in front of you. The sounds of the waves crashing against the sandy coast echoing softly around you. The odd passerby gawking as they went for their stroll in the dusky glow of the beach as the sun began to set on Coronado. Jake beamed up at you from where he stood on bended knee, his eyes matching the seafoam that was pooling around you, inching closer and closer to where you stood.

“Darlin’, remember that date I took ya on, where you made me dance with ya on the beach, after I swore I never would? That song you made me dance to, the one by Florida Georgia Line?”

“I remember,” you said, gazing at him with tear soaked eyes.

“Sugar, you know I’m not good at this kinda stuff - it’s more Bradley’s thing, being all sentimental and shit, but I’m gonna try my damnest, ok? You know how that song goes, “Baby you know my love is never gonna run dry, never gonna come up empty, now until the day I die, unconditionally,”

Jake’s cheeks blushed a soft pink as he tried his best to carry the tune, serenading you by the oceanside, “then it’s like, “You know I’m always gonna be here for ya, no one’s ever gonna love you more than God, your mama and me”? Guess that’s what I’m tryin’ to say here, no one on this earth is gonna be able to love you, or anyone else more than I do. I’m sure of it. I didn’t even think it was possible for me to love you as much as I do, but Baby, do I ever love you.”

“Jake,” you started, feeling yourself becoming breathless with excitement as he spoke.

“Babygirl, will you do me the greatest honor ever, and become Mrs. Seresin? I never thought I’d ever marry anyone, but I’d be a fool to not marry you, darlin’.”

Speechless, you nodded your head quickly, unable to make any sound other than an excited squeal of delight as he slipped the ring onto your finger. As Jake stood upright, he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping you in a loving embrace, his lips crashing against yours as he kissed you passionately.

From behind you, you could hear familiar voices cheering - you broke the kiss and turned to see Reuben, Javy, Mickey, Bradley, Natasha and Bob standing there, all beaming at you. Bradley wiped a single tear from his eye in his usual dramatic fashion, while Bob gave a proud thumbs up to Jake. A congratulatory smile formed on Natasha’s features, while Javy, Mickey and Reuben all applauded you both. You were overcome with emotion as you shared this moment with Jake and your friends.

“You all knew?”

“Of course we knew, Jake can’t keep a secret to save his life,” Natasha grinned, shrugging her shoulders.

“I get to be best man, right?” Bradley grinned as he clapped his hand onto Jake’s shoulder in a congratulatory substitute for a hug.

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shojizbae · 9 months ago

Text

Peeping Tom

Tamakixreader x mirio

Word count: 4K

Warnings: smut, voyeurism, oral (m&f receiving) jerking off, safe sex practices

Mirio didn’t mean to. He really didn’t. UA had very recently moved into the dorms when it happened. It was a Friday night, and he just finished a shower after getting home from his work study. Apparently, the walls were a little thinner than he expected.

Sometime around 8:30, he heard it. It started slow at first, talking. A movie played, but it changed so often that he couldn’t figure out which one. He had only a pair of sweatpants as he toweled off his hair when he heard it.

“(Y/n), woah!” It was the voice of his best friend and neighbor, Tamaki. His shy, elvish friend had finally confessed to his now girlfriend three months ago. (Y/n), a kind but rambunctious girl who had been dropping not-so-subtle hints for almost two years was one of Mirio’s favorites in the class.

Since getting together with Tamaki, she had drawn him out of his shell. It seemed tonight she would drag him out a little more complicated.

“What ‘woah’?” She gently placated

Now, Mirio, of all things, was not a snoop, but he was curious. Luckily, he wasn’t a cat, so he pressed his ear to their shared wall.

“W-we were just watching a movie. I didn’t expect you to get all handsy.” He said, and even through the wall, he could hear his best friend tucking his chin into his chest in embarrassment. So, they were finally gonna have sex?

Two weeks ago, Tamaki came to Mirio and Nejire with this concern. (Y/n) had very nonchalantly asked if he was ready or could consider getting physical with her. After about twenty minutes of gently calming him down, as he seemed to begin hyperventilating, he managed to say something he wanted meanly. Although his anxiety could try your patience occasionally, you were proud of the semi he was sprouting at the mention.

After that conversation, he went to Mirio, who coincidentally was with his girlfriend. He knocked at the door open (Y/n). Want to have sex with me!” He proclaimed in the closest voice he could muster. Unfortunately, he entered a scene from a magazine in the back of the store.

Nejire was in her school skirt and bra, her hair was disheveled but tucked to the side, and she was lying/ straddling Mirio's lap. Mirio was only in some checkered boxers and had one hand on her boobs and the other on her ass below her skirt. He managed a squeak before he spun around and slammed the door shut behind him.

His friends dressed quickly and chased him down, finding him with his head shoved deep into the dorm refrigerator.

“Uhh, Tamaki?” Mirio scratched his cheek but couldn’t hide his smile and his friend's antics

“Yeah, M-mirio?”

“Whatcha doing, man?”

“Uh, just getting a tea?”

“Yeah?” Nejire confirmed, “I thought Yaobara took the last ginseng one. And you hate the matcha ones?” Hado placated

“No, I think I see a Yuzu one back here.” He reached in and pulled out a can of lemonade and cracked the can open. He toon a sip just for show although not bringing himself to make eye contact “mmm refreshing. Well gotta get back to my dorm!” He tried to breeze past the couple until one of Mirio’s giant hands pushed him back by his chest.

“Slow down there, partner! What was this you said about you and (Y/n) having sex?”

“Mirio, not so loud!” Amajiki exclaimed

“Yeah, babe, why don’t we take this back to your dorm?”

“Right,” Mirio looked at his girlfriend with smitten eyes, then at Tamaki’s cherry-red eyes. “Why not yours?” He offered. Tamaki hung his head and pathetically followed the couple to Hado’s dorm room to discuss what this meant.

That was two weeks ago.

Ever since Togata had been anxiously waiting for some kind of sign that (Y/n) had gotten Tamaki into the sac. He felt like some religious fanatic awaiting a divine character, and here it was. Giggles and sighs, and the TV in Tamaki’s bedroom turned up a considerable few clicks.

He kept his ear pressed to the wall, but his curiosity was getting too powerful for him. Accidentally or subconsciously, he slipped through the wall, so his head and left should be passing ghostly through the barrier.- Now his head was in Tamaki’s dim closet where he always left his doors cracked for a long-standing fear of monsters. From his angle, he saw a scene that was downright painting-worthy.

You were sprawled over Tamaki’s lap with both hand tangled into the hair at the base of his neck. Tamaki had one hand up the back of your cardigan which was slipping down your right shoulder. It seemed he was fumbling with your bra clasp which frustrated Mirio because they had spent a considerable amount of time teaching him all about bras.

Frustratedly, you sat up and whipped your cardigan to the side, unclipping your bra and pulling it out of the front of your camisole slowly to tease your boyfriend. With the news he could see, Tamaki looked downright disfigured. His tie hung off his bedside lamp, the top three buttons of his school shirt had been hastily undone, and a speckling of hickies already decorated his neck and chest. Mirio heard him whimper below you as he braced his hands on your thighs.

“You’re beautiful (Y/n).” Tamaki proclaimed, which shocked both who’d heard it

“You don’t need to butter me up, babe, I’m already so wet for you.” You purred as you sunk back to his lips. Tamaki did his best to keep up with you, but the overwhelming barrage of kisses and the constant figure eight of your hips against his was becoming too much for him. Mirio watched in delight as you climbed. His best friend was like a hungry cougar. You gently placed your hands in each of his collarbones, pushed him back onto the plush pillows, and placed a gentle peck on his lips before shimmying down his thighs.

You landed softly on the carpet on your knees with your hands braced on his thighs.

“Uhh (Y/n), what are you…?”

“Shhh, babe, I want this to be special for you.” You held your pointer finger up to your lips in a hushing motion. Then you dug at his belt and enjoyed the iconic sound of a metal clacking against metal.

“(Y/n), You really don’t have to.” He anxiously pleads

“But, Ama, I want to.” That made something in Mirio’s stomach do Olympic gymnastics. There was a pleading glint in your eyes as you begged him silently. He closed his mouth and eyes and gave the subtlest nod known to man, and you dove back in. You tucked some hair behind your ear and undid the button and zipper of Tamaki’s green trousers.

“Take off your shirt, babe.” You ordered, and he obeyed happily as you tugged his boxers. He wriggled around and tossed his shirt into oblivion, and you fished his dick out of his briefs. “Woah, babe, you have such a pretty cock.” You stated proudly.

Mirio had to agree. Of course, he had accidentally caught glances in the locker room, but he was seldom hard in those situations. He could tell from this distance that your statement wasn’t just flattery. It was above average in length with a plump cockhead and perfectly flushed pink. Mirio watched as you took a lick from base to tip, and Amajiki warbled beneath your touch. You took his balls in your left hand and played with them.

Amajiki was notoriously neat, so he wasn’t shocked to see his friend had done some manscaping.

“(Y/n)~” he drawled the final syllable as you slowly sucked on his tip. Mirio could see his friend's abs flexing and twisting as he struggled under your mouth. “(Y/n)!” He groaned. Suddenly, he touched your shoulder and pulled off with an almost cartoon pop.

“Why are we stopping? Is it bad?” You added anxiously

“No! No, it’s. He wiped his eyes and tried to collect his thoughts. “It’s really, uhuh, really good. I don’t think I’ll last one second if you keep going.” He wiped his sweaty brow

“Aww,” you gave a downward smile, proud of yourself for being a natural. You started climbing up him again and gave him a long, searing kiss so he could taste his own precum on your lips. You started reaching behind you for the zipper of your skirt, but Tamaki caught your wrist before you could retake the lead.

“I’ll be taking care of that.” He stated as a wave of confidence overtook him. He held under your armpits and spun the both of you around, so he landed with a giggle in the tangle of his blankets. Often, you forget how strong your boyfriend is. Partly because he rarely wore tight or revealing clothing that showed off his sexy, lean muscles. They didn’t exude the confidence typical of people as powerful as him.

As he stood, he tucked himself back into his boxers but shucked off his pants and folded them at the waist before tossing them to the side. You laughed at his continued clean behaviors, and Mirio just enjoyed it. He claimed back over your abdomen to kiss your lips and your forehead.

Sensing his tiredness, Mirio returned his whole body to his bedroom and got some water. He brought his fist toward his chest in victory and recapped some water. He’s seen plenty more than what is appropriate, right? There should be no need to keep snooping? Right?

Mirio checked the lock on his door, relieved that he remembered to lock it while changing. Although it’s not as if everyone in the class hadn’t seen some part of him during training. He took another sip from his water bottle and plunged his head back into his ‘peephole.’

What he saw was miraculous.

Amajiki was laying shooter style between your spread legs. He had his right hand stuffed deep in your cunt, and with his left hand, he was holding yours.

“L-like this (Y/n)?” He sought your guidance and received only a high-pitched sigh

“Yeah! Mhmm,” you attempted to clear your throat to gain some composure. “Yeah, just like that, Ama.” You sighed

“Ok, but how’s the pace, or should I do anything else.”

“Y-you c-could play withhh my clit?” You offered. Mirio was gobsmacked. How did his shy, reserved best friend get his girlfriend to stutter like him?

“O-ok.” he unlocked his fingers from yours and started making gentle circles. He tried to find it, but notoriously, it seemed to be the eighth wonder.

“Um, a little higher, baby,” you took your once-connected hands and guided his left hand up to your clit and hiccuped. You found it, and Tamaki's gentle hands lay you out.

“Like this?” He smiled up at your pinked face

“Yeah, just like that, baby.”

“So this is good?”

“Yeah, hun, this is euuh,. This is really good,” you accidentally interrupted yourself. Jeez, Tamaki, Mirio thought you really needed more confidence.

“You know,” Tamaki jumped at the sound of your voice, “nothing's wrong, babe, just if you wanted, you could use your mouth.”

“D-do you want it?”

“Only if yoUU!” Before you could confirm, he placed his mouth right where his left hand was. The squee you let out emboldened both boys witnessing you. Until now, Mirio had been balancing on his knees and his right hand while his left hand pushed against the wall. Now, his left hand slid down to his navel and slipped under his champion sweatpants. There was a considerable pile of pre that had pooled in his pants, and he thanked his twenty-minute earlier self who had chosen to forgo underwear.

Quickly he was able to grab onto his cock as his gaze was fixed on you, the porno in front of him. Amajikis left hand had vacated your clit as his mouth took the promotion. Instead, he was grasping desperately at one of your boobs, and his right did its best to assault your g-spot.

Evidently, his right hand was doing a good job, and you moaned and writhed beneath your boyfriend's ministrations.

“Fuck baby, keep going,” you looked your leg over his shoulder and locked him closer to your pussy. Mirio started to circle his cockhead with his thumb as he heard your moans pitch up.

You sunk your right hand into his hair, which made Tamaki groan a little. Your left hand flew out to grip a nearby pile of comforter.

“Tama, uhh, I’m so close! Please, whatever you do, don’t stop or change anything.” And he obeyed happily, maybe adding to the intensity only emblazoned by your tenacity. Your other leg wrapped around the side of his ribs as you reached climax. All coherency left him as you came a jumble of Tamaki's names and various moans and squeals.

Mirio gripped his dick a little harder, and you squirmed and relished the first orgasm someone had provided you. Tamaki sat on his knees and wiped his mouth as he admired how wrecked you looked. Your hair was spread in a million directions, and your tank top was ridden up so he could see your belly as it rose and fell. Your skirt was flipped up, and your panties hung off one of your knees. Even your socks seemed to be slipping if your body as your boyfriend devoured the sight of you.

He had watched many a dirty movie, but nothing compared to how sexy you looked right now. Sweating, shaking, and your face was completely red.

Tamaki was doing much better. He, too, was out of breath and slightly damp, but most noticeable was his cock dancing and straining against his navy blue briefs.

“Aww baby, that looks like it hurts,” you reached for his waistband and tugged him so you were both sitting on the bed, “why don’t we take care of you.” You sat his back against the wall and almost tore his boxers off him. You stood up and pulled your camisole over your head, and brandished it to the side. You gave him a smile as his eyes locked onto your breasts. You saw him swallow and, for the show, fanned himself like a lady at church with his hand.

Boldly, you pulled the zipper of your skirt down and let the green pleats free fall, and you stepped out of it. Despite being buried in your pussy just a minute before, the sight of you completely naked and on display for him was golden. His cock stood at attention, painfully awaiting you.

You climbed back onto your boyfriend's and kissed him sweetly to reassure him. His confidence broke briefly as he awaited your insight.

“Here, hold onto my hips.” You place your hand over his and guide them to the fat of your hips. You rose slowly on your knees and used your right hand to guide his cock to your awaiting pussy. You paused right as you made contact.

“Fuck! I forgot condoms!” You put your forehead on his collarbones in defeat.

“That’s okay, baby,” he secured a hand on the small of your back and leaned the two of you forward. He slowly opened the drawer and pulled out a box of condoms, pulling out the roll and ripping one off.

“How did you?”

“After that night, I went out and bought some. I-I had to call Mirio for help.” He admitted, ashamed.

“Aww, baby.” Mirio stopped his hand as he smiled at the memory. It was nine at night when he got the call. It took ten minutes to calm down a very overwhelmed Tamaki and explain that most of the scented or rubbed condoms were not a good choice and that he should go with latex unless he knew you were allergic to latex. You weren’t, so he got some pretty generic-looking lubricated condoms with a little doctor-recommended check. He didn’t make eye contact with the cashier; he only handed her enough cash to pay and grabbed the box before she could give him change.

You both settled back into position and he ripped the foil open with his teeth. Your knees buckled a little at the sight and you helped guide the condom down his dick. As you slid him down your folds you paused right at your pussy and looked in his eyes.

“Mhmmm,” he managed to grit out, and you slowly sunk his head in. Both of you seemed to moan and were keen on the contact. Your hands flew up to grip his shoulders, and he sunk into the small of your waist. Mirio gripped his cock reignited by the double loss of virginity. Slowly you eased down his cock and experimentally brought yourself up and down once. You shuddered in his lap.

Tamaki slid his hands down your waist to your hips, and you picked up the pace, bouncing up and down his lap with more confidence. With his help, you rode him with a passionate curiosity.

Mirio picked up the pace as you two seemed to find a groove. The purple-ette enjoying the sight of you taking him for his pleasure and the satisfying squelch of your pussy around him. Every lift and drop of your hips forces his eyes to shut a little, but every time, he forces them back open to allow himself to soak you in.

You’re not doing much better. Already sensitive from cumming minutes earlier, the excitement of finally getting to fuck Tamaki swirled into a greater pleasure than you could imagine. Unfortunately, it was interrupted by the ghost of cowgirls.

“Ow ow ow!” You settled your hips

“What? What is it, baby?” He clamped his hand on the side of your face.

“Foot cramp.” You shook it and winced

“D-do you wanna switch?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded, and he kept his hold on the side of your face but gave you a gentle peck. Then he slid his hands under your legs and picked you, only to slam you down on the mattress. You bounced and laughed as you held his face for another kiss. You tucked some stray hair out of his face as he guided himself back into your sweet, warm pussy.

You made eye contact as a slight gasp slipped from your mouth. Tamaki leaned over you and placed your arms around his neck. He placed both hands by your ears and started up a slow and gentle pace. Before he realized your eyes were going the same rolling back/ force open pattern.

From this position Amajiki was hitting all the best angles. Mirio thought he was spoiled for getting the pleasure of witnessing this. Every grunt and every sigh even the squeak of the mattress beneath Tamaki’s knees was only fuel for his fist. He brought his hand up to his mouth so he could collect a weight bead of spit which he spread over his throbbing cock. He could feel his balls keening with the need to release but he was trying to time it with the movie he was witnessing.

On your side of the wall was bliss. You kept your arms around his neck but still wove your fingers through the thick hair at his nape. When you gave a particularly strong tug Tamaki crooned into you touch. He moaned a little harder as you tugged on him.

“D’yo like that, Ama?”

“Y-yes,” he managed to plead.

“Y’want me to do it again?”

“Yes-fuck, please!” You were shocked to hear your typically formal boyfriend swear at you. It was hot, so you pulled harder in his gorgeous silky hair. You only pulled more erotic sounds out of his lips, which were coated in a thin layer of saliva from chewing on them.

“Fuck again! I-I’m gonna cum!”

“T-Tama!” You nearly started laughing in surprise at his foul mouth. But the obsessive rhythm of his hips was bringing you closer to the edge again. “Just keep going. I’m ughh,” you groaned against your will as he teased your G-spot.

“Deeper Tama!” You begged. He grabbed each of your ankles at your request and brought them up by his ears. He leaned down on you and landed a searing kiss on your forehead and then brought his pace a little faster, lingering at the depression of his thrust.

“Ahh, right there! Please don’t stop!” But he was sputtering out from exhaustion and being on the precipice of an orgasm

“I can’t- I’m not gonna!” He sounded absolutely pathetic

“It’s fine, baby. Just keep going.”

“Do you want me to pull out?”

“Why would you wear a condom? Inside please” At that, any scrap of reserve fell away as he pounded into you, desperate to cum.

“(Y/n)! Uh, I’m gonna!” He parked his hips deep in your pussy as he came with a whimper. Your eyes rolled so far back that he was nervous; they might not return. As he came to, he felt like he was strangled by your pussy, clamping down and spasming around his cock. You raked your hands down Amajiki's back, desperate to cling onto something for fear you might float away.

If he were to look back on it, Mirio would say that the noises you made as you came sent him hurtling over the edge. In a split-second decision, he permeated his other hand through the wall to bite so he could damper his sounds. He shuddered, and his ear rang after he came. A nasty white matter on the wall was evidence of his Tom peeping.

He pulled himself back through to his room to assess the damage. He would need to change his sweatpants because of a big precum stain on the grey fabric. He laughed at himself and how live-action porn got him so riled up.

“Oh jeez,” he put his clean hand on his forehead. Directly after he had hidden the evidence, a pounding at his door nearly scared him out of his skin.

“Miri! Togata! Why is your door locked?” He zipped over to his door, unlocked it, and gave his girlfriend a kiss on the forehead as she sunk into his chest.

“Long day, baby?” He similarly caged her in

“So long,” she whined

“You want to hear something that will cheer you up?” He pulled back so he could look at her adorable little face

“Always,”

“They finally did it.” He admitted with a downward smile

“YOU SHUT YOUR DAMN MOUTH!” She leaped back, accidentally activating her quirk

“Yeah, I heard it all.” He smirked proudly. “You wanna go over and bust them?”

“Yeah!” She cheered sharing similar smirks and penchants for mischief. Mirio threw on a t-shirt and they crept next door. Stupidly the couple had forgone locking the door. The two bust through the door to reveal what could have been a sweet wholesome moment.

(Y/n) had her head laid on Tamaki’s chest and Tamaki had an arm over her shoulder and was stroking up and down with his finger tips. But as the couple blew threw Tamaki’s door sending the couple flying up and out of their sheets.

(Y/n) grabbed the nearest blanket and held it to her chest to conserve some of her modesty.

“What are you doing get out!” You screeched in embarrassment while poor Tamaki cowered, mortified.

“Ok ok,” Mirio backed out in surrender “did you kids have fun?”

“Out!’l you hollered. The incident did not stop you by any means from continuing your fun. You just remembered to lock the doors. But no padlock could keep out your neighbor of a peeping tom.

#tamaki amajiki #Tamaki Amajikix reader #Mirio Togata #Nejire Hado #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #Tamaki Amajiki x reader smut

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gffa · 10 months ago

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I've been a little slow on getting out new STAR WARS fic recs out, but in my defense it's because I've been reading a bunch of longer fics lately. In the spirit of "there's a special feeling to those fics that consume you and make you stay up until 3am because you can't put them down", here's a list of some of the ones I've loved or am in the middle of reading and they are haunting my thoughts and I need to inflict that on everyone else. Whether you're looking at a long upcoming trip and need some good reading material or avoiding your feelings by sinking into fic or just because you like reading, I hope you'll find something here! Including a bonus underrunning theme of throwing in a bunch of Jedi-loving fic to continue my agenda of making Jedi-centric fandom a more fun place to be. 30k+ is the minimum and this isn't all of my favorites, but it's a great list of "I have a week off to kill and I want to be in a fic coma by the end of it".

STAR WARS FIC FOR WHEN YOU NEED TO KILL ABOUT TEN HOURS WORTH OF TIME AND WANT TO HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT FICTIONAL PSYCHIC SPACE WIZARDS WHILE YOU'RE AT IT:

✦ Out with Lanterns by SkyeBean, mace & ahsoka & plo & shaak & cast, 312.5k In another universe, Jedi Masters Plo Koon and Depa Billaba decide a Padawan could do Mace some good. It takes a while, but he eventually agrees. When he takes Ahsoka Tano as his Padawan, Mace knows that he's broken through a Shatterpoint and changed the course of a life. How, he doesn't know. ✦ Reprise by Elfpen, obi-wan & qui-gon & mace & yoda & anakin & cast, time travel, 558.9k wip Ben Kenobi dies aboard the Death Star in the year 0 BBY. He wakes up shortly thereafter in the Jedi temple in the year 41 BBY. Haunted by memories and regret, Ben must forge a new path for himself in the Jedi Order of his youth while navigating the murky waters of time travel. Crafting a better future from bitter experience is hard, but learning to heal is even harder. ✦ Take it from the top and try again by mauvera, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & padme & mace & shmi & dooku & cast, time travel, 112k wip Five years into his self imposed exile on Tattooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi is gifted the chance to go back and bring hope back to the galaxy. With hindsight on his side, he fully intends to save his master, save his padawan, make some new and old friends again, prepare the Jedi for a war they’ll hopefully never see and begin to pull apart all the many tangled threads of the Sith Lord’s plans. Should be relatively easy. Right? ✦ Post Order 66 Exile AU by Livsy, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 46k Alternatively: after a failed order 66, in which many Jedi still died but the Sith were defeated, an exiled warrior and a boy wander a distant planet and attempt to get along. ✦ Remedial Jedi Theology by MarbleGlove, obi-wan & anakin & jedi & cast, 51.3k Let us consider the fact that the Jedi Order is a monastic religious organization based out of a temple, with five basic tenets of faith. ✦ Supreme Chancellor Obi-Wan Kenobi by stonefreeak, obi-wan & anakin & padme & yoda & palpatine & bail & dooku & mace & quinlan & vokara & ahsoka & cast, 124.5k wip By an old Republic law, all members of the Jedi High Council are senators in the Galactic Senate, and can thus be voted in as chancellor. A Senator from a less prominent planet has had enough of Chancellor Palpatine's incompetence and calls for a Vote of No-Confidence and the installation of Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi as Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic. This one action becomes the catalyst that changes the direction of the galaxy. ✦ What We've Become by Vinyarie, vader & ahsoka & cast, 82k Darth Vader and Ahsoka’s fight on Malachor takes a different path, and Ahsoka actually is able to save her master. Or rather, she’s able to convince him to save himself. Diverges from canon in the last few minutes of Twilight of the Apprentice and goes increasingly AU from there.

✦ time to change the road you're on by wreckageofstars, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & han & ghost crew & cast, time travel, 93.6k wip The end of the Clone War is near - the fall of the Republic even nearer. Anakin Skywalker, caught up in the events that lead to the rise of the Empire and the loss of everything he holds dear, finds himself sent nearly two decades into the future. Ahsoka Tano, still coming to painful terms with the true fate of her former master, is - not exactly happy to see him. But the Force works in mysterious ways - and the future is not nearly as set in stone as they've been lead to believe. Multi-chapter AU, Rise of the Empire/Rebels-era. ✦ narrower than a razor's edge by bereft_of_frogs, obi-wan & dooku & qui-gon & anakin & sidious & cast, 30.2k Dooku tips his hand ten years earlier because he can't stand the thought of his former apprentice's murder, and that might just be enough to save everyone...if it doesn't get them all killed first. ✦ soften every edge by gigglesandfreckles, obi-wan & ahsoka (& anakin), major character death, 48.1k "Rejoice!" the galaxy says, in the wake of war and the dawning of peace. "How?" Obi-Wan asks. "No," Ahsoka says. (or: Obi-Wan & Ahsoka learn to live on.) ✦ hunting toward heartstill by blackkat, mace/cody & plo & fives & shaak & obi-wan & anakin & rex & cast, 207.2k Plo has an idea. Mace agrees, and everything snowballs right into hell from there. (Or: Mace and Cody get married in order to give the clones citizen status. Before they can focus on that, though, they're going to have to deal with ancient Sith artifacts, evil prophets, plots to overthrow the Supreme Chancellor, lost planets, monsters warped by Sith alchemy, inconvenient , and Darth Sidious turning his eye on a potential new apprentice. Just...not in that order.) ✦ Cataclasm by dendral, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & waxer & cast, 63.1k wip For reasons unknown to all but himself, Obi-Wan Kenobi has left the Jedi Order in the midst of the Clone Wars, taking with him a single clone. Anakin Skywalker has been unofficially tasked by the Order to find Obi-Wan and bring him home. Unfortunately for Anakin, it seems his former master is always ten steps ahead of him. ✦ Unexpected Awakening (The Rewrite) by Rhiw, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & feemor & bruck & jango & cast, time travel, 135.1k wip The life of General Kenobi is cut short at the hands of his Padawan, but the sight that greets his eyes upon awakening is not that of blinding light of the Force, but the Jedi Temple he knew when he was still a youth. As he struggles to understand the path laid out before him, Obi-Wan unwittingly captures the attention of a singularly unusual Temple Guard, and that of a reluctant Qui-Gon Jinn.

✦ Knightrise by deviantaccumulation, obi-wan & ahsoka & satine & yoda & cast, 89.4k wip There is no battle on Mustafar or in Coruscant's senate building. Instead, a small but still alive Jedi Order rises from its ashes on Mandalore. ✦ Fire and Ice by Yesac, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 111.9k Anakin wins the duel on Mustafar, but doesn't kill Obi-Wan. Along with Padme, Obi-Wan finds himself living in a chaotic world where the man he thought he knew has become the thing he swore to destroy. Can Anakin be turned back? If so, what then? ✦ Better That a Millstone by Icarus_is_flying, obi-wan & luke & anakin & leia & cast, 86.7k Vader discovers Luke and Obi-Wan on Tatooine when Luke is one year old and attempts to reclaim the family he threw away. Obi-Wan is less than pleased, and Luke and Leia? They have their own ideas about how their future should play out. ✦ Bloodlines by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & dooku, 35.8k When an explosion traps them in the same doomed escape pod, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Dooku are stranded together on Tatooine. The goal is simple: cooperate long enough to survive, and not a second longer. But a shared past has a way of connecting the people we think we know—and bloodlines run deep. [or: your classic family road trip across a desert planet, except your grandpa is, you know, a Sith Lord. And now he's sort of starting to bond with your Jedi dad. And that might be an issue.] ✦ When Darkness Seems to Hide This Place by IllyanaA, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & rex & cast, 136k wip After killing three of the Jedi Order's best and brightest, Palpatine's fight with Jedi Master Mace Windu goes shorter than expected. Afraid he's lost his chance at recruiting a new apprentice, Sidious unleashes Order 66 across the galaxy, but, per their programming, the Clone Army is not to harm Anakin Skywalker. After witnessing the most painful loss he's ever experienced and injured at the hands of his captors, Anakin is ready to die like the rest of the Jedi, though not before getting his vengeance. ✦ Precipice by shadowsong26, obi-wan & anakin & padme & luke & leia & bail & ahsoka & rex & cast, 253.6k An AU in which Anakin Skywalker does not follow Mace Windu and the others to Palpatine’s office after they leave to arrest the Chancellor. As a result, he doesn’t get that final push over the edge, and doesn’t Fall. ✦ Averting Galactic Destruction by kj_feybarn, obi-wan & anakin & quinlan & rex & cody & fives & dogma & wolffe & plo & shaak & dooku & sidious, time travel, 44.3k AKA The Time the Force Sent Obi-Wan Back in Time and Quinlan Vos kept him from Going Kamikaze because let’s be Honest, Being Forced to Come Back in Time Would Suck.

✦ Into the Archives by skygawker, obi-wan & anakin/padme & palpatine & cast, 104.9k wip After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU. ✦ Live To Fight Another Day by raemanzu, spica_tea, cody & rex & jesse & kix & obi-wan & anakin & fox & cast, 396.9k wip Clones have their place in the universe, beyond the schemes of Palpatine. Events conspire to place Rex on the path of a new fate, one which will affect the future in ways not even the Jedi could foresee. Loyal to source material and characterizations. Canon-divergent. Starts between seasons 5 and 6 of TCW and explores Rex’s reaction to Fives’ dying words and subsequent events building toward Order 66. Variety of canon characters. No ships. Very Ace and Aro. Strong focus on certain friendships (Rex and Cody, Jesse and Kix, etc) with those friendships playing major roles. Thematically about how the clones navigate loss, trauma, the concept of their enslavement, their identities, etc amongst the larger active plot threads. Content warnings for war-related PTSD, trauma, combat injuries, and all around war-related angst etc in later chapters. ✦ Life and What Comes After by Ibelin, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme & cast, 177.2k wip Obi-Wan dies on Jabiim. Anakin blames himself, doesn't know how to go on and yet - he does. Maybe the Force rewards that kind of thing, or maybe he just gets lucky, but when a mission lands Anakin on a vaguely familiar planet, he gets a second chance to do what he knows he should have done in the first place: save his master. (And maybe a chance to save the galaxy, too.) ✦ Knight-Errant by zinjadu, anakin & ahsoka & obi-wan & padme & rex & jedi & clones, 315.8k AU - The Jedi Who Knew Too Much. Rex decides to stay "in pursuit" of his Commander; he jumps. Now, with backup, Ahsoka navigates the lower levels and deals with Ventress. Meanwhile, Anakin takes the Order to task, finds a little more support, and things turn out a little differently for everyone. And this is just the beginning. ✦ the massive machinery of hope by Killbothtwins, obi-wan & qui-gon & anakin & shmi & jedi, time travel, 150.1k After the end of the war with the Empire, Obi-Wan wakes up in his twelve-year old body. Now all he needs to do is convince everyone he's psychic, trick his Master into taking him on before he's sent to Bandomeer, redeem a few bad guys, and try not to have a nervous breakdown. Pretty easy. It's not like the Sith are lurking on the horizon, waiting to devour the Jedi Order.

✦ The Exchange by MissLearn, obi-wan & anakin & qui-gon & ahsoka & padme & cast, time travel/body swap, 120k The Daughter has a bad day and it irrevocably changes the fate of the galaxy, twice over. Or; ROTS Obi-Wan and Anakin are swapped with their younger, TPM, selves. It changes things, in both parallels. ✦ In All The World by Kjellarnen, obi-wan & anakin & cast, 144.8k wip The story of how Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi tamed each other, from Naboo to Anakin's early days at the Temple. ✦ In Another Life by KCKenobi, obi-wan & anakin & ahsoka & padme, time travel, 52.3k Eleven years after the rise of the Empire, a favor to a friend sends Obi-Wan traveling through the multiverse. He encounters different versions of the galaxy and of himself—including one in which Anakin never turned to the dark side. Obi-Wan and this Light Anakin are forced to work together to stop the creation of a disastrous Empire weapon. But as they move through different versions of reality, the timelines become more and more twisted—and the harder it is to distinguish who they are from who they might have been. And—to find their way home. ✦ The Intruder by Hollyoakhill, obi-wan & original clone characters, 82.5k When a vicious attack from a strange, indestructible monster traps them on a derelict star destroyer, a young clone trooper fresh from Kamino join forces with Jedi General Obi-Wan Kenobi to find a way to escape. ✦ Conceal Me What I Am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & padme & yoda & mace & palpatine & quinlan & cast, omegaverse, NSFW, 108.3k Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public's support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be. ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 95.9k During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone.

✦ Invictus by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 40.3k "He is the balance, the other half, the completion to Skywalker’s soul, a perfect dyad in the force. But while Kenobi is a simple answer, the force also sees the difficulty of the pair coming together in balance. The foundations of the galaxy they exist in pull at them, threatening to intervene in their unity. But this is also a simple problem, for the force is far greater than the foundations of a single galaxy, for it is the foundation of all. So the force enacts its will, to bridge the pair over a span of moments, of years, of eternities, and Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi will fall in love, have fallen in love, and are falling in love." ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 121.2k wip In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker's miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who thought he had lost everything to darkness. But darkness is generous, and it is patient. ✦ Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & dooku & rex & cast, NSFW, 187.1k The ancient Galactic Republic is dying slowly—an ugly death of corruption, sprawl, and decay—with the sin of slavery hanging over its every triumph. The beleaguered Jedi Knights are too few to adequately patrol and police the entire Republic, and are faced with complacency and greed at every turn. Born into a crumbling and stagnant galaxy, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker are faced with the greatest challenge of all: themselves. Obi-Wan likes rules and control. When the galaxy around him stops playing by the rules, what is a Jedi to do? Anakin needs rules and restraint. When the galaxy around him conspires to set him loose, what is his Master to do? Falling slowly or falling fast, falling through lust or falling through wrath—it all leads to delusion and moral decay. What can be born from the ashes? ✦ Atlas of Our Ruin by Ripki, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 230.8k Both the past and the future casts long shadows. Obi-Wan and Anakin learn that the hard way, when a mysterious holocron flings them backwards and forwards in time, forcing them to confront painful truths. But the time-travel is only the beginning… ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 44k When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him-- no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote.

✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 124.2k wip There are rumours of yet another Sith Lord hiding among the Separatists. The Council sends Anakin to investigate. Anakin has a bad feeling about this. or, the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Obi-Wan is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ Rulebreaker/Wildheart by chapstickaddict, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & luke & leia & barriss & cast, NSFW, 230k Darth Vader, the strong arm of the Sith, held loyal to his Order since they took he and his mother from slavery in the deserts of Tatooine. Until he became convinced they killed his wife. He abandoned his Order and disappeared in the chaos of the Clone Wars, presumed dead by all sides. That young Skywalker is known around town as a widower and homesteader; a Nabooian who emigrated to avoid the trade blockade; a father of overly-energetic twins and warding a Togruta war orphan; a decent mechanic if your farm equipment or maintenance droid is acting up. Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet? ✦ more than a candle by jenmishe, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 50.3k "The dark is generous and it is patient and it always wins – but in the heart of its strength lies its weakness: one lone candle is enough to hold it back. Love is more than a candle. Love can ignite the stars." Or, a few thousands of words of how Anakin, Obi Wan, and Padmé realize many things, which include, most notably, how they feel about each other and how to handle said feelings. Oh, and in the meantime, they deal with a megalomaniac Sith Lord. ✦ Anamorphosis by avocadomoon, obi-wan/padme & anakin & mace & corde & qui-gon & cast, 33.5k noun, plural an·a·mor·pho·ses [an-uh-mawr-fuh-seez, -mawr-foh-seez]. A distorted or monstrous projection or representation of an image on a plane or curved surface, which, when viewed from a certain point, or as reflected from a curved mirror or through a polyhedron, appears regular and in proportion; a deformation of an image.

#lumi.txt #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #qui gon jinn #jedi order #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post #really long post

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spookyserenades · 11 months ago

Text

Trouvaille - Chapter Thirteen

Pairing(s); BTS OT7 x Reader

Genre/Themes; Hybrid!AU, themes of the supernatural and the occult, religious themes, violence, hurt/comfort, horror, romance

Rated; 18+ for swearing, violence/gore, future sexual themes. Reader discretion is advised.

Word Count; 16.9k

Trouvaille Masterlist

Trouvaille playlist

Updates on the 7th of each month

Hi loves! A little late on this New Year update, but I' m happy to be able to share Chapter Thirteen with you all! This is a fluffy, sweet update, with a side of angst and a little spiciness I hope you all had lovely holidays, and have the best 2024. As always, I love to hear what you all think of these updates, and again, thank you for your patience with this update. Lots of love from Dana! 💕

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Steadying her breaths, Y/N slid the skirt fabric of her cranberry-colored velvet dress between her fingertips, shuddering involuntarily as another family came through the front door of the rec center, bringing an icy blast of outside air into the lobby. In her other hand, she had some sort of wintery champagne cocktail, a sprig of rosemary tickling the tip of her nose every time she took a sip from the fluted glass. Compared to Taehyung’s previous photography expo, there were twice as many people. It was during the inky evening, and everyone was dressed up in their holiday finery– jazzy Christmas music filling the festive space. Currently, she was standing by herself towards the back of the room, breaking away from Taehyung to get a fresh drink, and to collect her thoughts.

As if on cue, a shiver rolled down her spine delicately, her eyes catching sync with a pair of narrowed, sharp, golden-green eyes from across the joyfully decorated room, all of the breath being forcibly withdrawn from her lungs. Everything around her turned to a blur; her cheeks had flames licking at the flesh, and her heart swelled three times its size behind her ribcage. Ever-so-subtly, Yoongi lifted his champagne flute a few centimeters into the air in acknowledgement, sending a smirk and a wink her way.

Y/N felt the flush in her cheeks heat up the back of her neck, too, cutting the chill that was periodically blowing into the room. She nervously cast a wide-sweeping glance around the room, paranoid that someone had caught the brief, but charged interaction– but amongst the sea of dozens of hybrids and their families, she couldn’t spot any of her other six boys. Which was odd, no doubt, considering their clinginess or the fact that at least one of them was always hanging out around the minibar.

She visually located the leopard hybrid once again, his focus still on her with great amusement all over his delicate face, and Y/N allowed herself to fully take in her love’s appearance leisurely, now that she was sure she wasn’t being carefully watched by one of the others.

Apart from his sparkling, sharp feline eyes, his hair was tucked behind his ears meticulously in feathered pitch-dark, shoulder length waves, showing off several shiny silver hoops threaded through his earlobes. His spotted ears, of course, perked up and alert as if trying to listen for her shallow breaths from where he leaned against the wall by the bathrooms, his elegant figure on display in the black satin button down he was in. Dragging her eyes down his body slowly, meaningfully, she subconsciously bit down on her lip as she soaked in the way his dress pants hugged his slim legs, the way one of his strong, talented hands was tucked into a pocket, before her once-over returned back to Yoongi’s stunning face, fixated on the fullness of his mouth.

At once, she remembered the way his lips felt against her own. First sweet, ripe with fulfillment– then turning feverish, desperate, wanting. Instinctively, perhaps, Yoongi’s tongue flicked out to moisten the flesh of his lower lip, Y/N recalling how it felt to have it gliding against her own, and before she could get too lost in that memory, she promptly snapped out of it and shot Yoongi a stubborn scowl. He was teasing her on purpose, she knew it.

Turning on the heel of her black pumps, Y/N tried her best to rein in her lewd thoughts by stuffing a Christmas cookie into her mouth, nearly choking on the dryness of it. It was probably high time for her to go and find Taehyung again, anyways, and with her and Yoongi’s relationship status both still murky and very much a secret, she didn’t want to risk getting too close to the leopard hybrid that night. Not when she felt like pushing him into the nearest supply closet to kiss the wind out of him.

“Darling, pass me one of those gingerbread dudes, will you?” Y/N flinched in total shock when she felt a clever palm slide across her upper back and settle on one of her shoulder blades, the clean, outdoorsy scent of Hoseok filling her senses and making her stiffen awkwardly.

Wordlessly, Y/N plucked a cookie off of the platter, peering upwards and sideways as she offered it to her fox hybrid as normally as she could. As if she wasn’t just thinking about Yoongi’s tongue down her throat.

Hoseok’s brilliant cocoa eyes were glittering mischievously, all of the multicolored lights decked around the room making his wavy mahogany hair seem more auburn than ever. He, like Yoongi, was dressed smartly, a stark difference to his typical athleisure. A simple white button down, an even simpler sporty charcoal blazer, and matching dress pants. Hoseok did have some funky, embellished loafers on, however, true to his tendencies to pick out flashy or colorful statement pieces for his wardrobe. He looked amazing– sexy, dangerously so.

“You see Tae-tae’s pictures yet?” Hoseok asked over a bite of cookie, leaning his hip against the minibar and glancing around the room. ‘Tae-tae’ was a sort of condescending nickname Hoseok had begun to use in reference to the Kodiak hybrid, but Y/N secretly found it kind of cute.

“No, I haven’t. He said he wanted to make sure they put up the right frames and set it up the way he wanted it before he showed me,” Y/N reached up to adjust the slightly-askew collar of Hoseok’s dress shirt, her icy fingertips brushing over the golden skin of the base of his throat, the fox hybrid shivering almost imperceptibly at the contact.

Still, with her focus on Hoseok, she could feel Yoongi’s eyes lingering on her burning holes into the back of her head. And as if Hoseok could read her mind, he cleared his throat, Y/N focusing back on the pools of caramel swirling around in the fox hybrid’s irises; inquisitive, intelligent, and kind.

“So, how are things? You know, with… Yoongi?” Hoseok purposefully whispered the leopard hybrid’s name, though Y/N had no doubt that even then, Yoongi was likely completely dialed into what her and Hoseok were talking about it. Y/N winced, remembering the brief text conversation she had with Hoseok nearly a week ago.

On her nightstand, where she had left it, her phone chimed, making her flinch and swear. Blindly reaching for it, still a little hazy from the scenting and makeout session, she unlocked her phone, only to feel dread wash over her as she read the text that she received.

Hoseok 🦊: What the hell is going on with you and Yoongi?

Y/N: um, what do you mean?

Heart racing, Y/N felt nausea welling up in her gut as she watched three little dots appear on her screen, Hoseok speedily crafting a response. Everything that happened between her and Yoongi was in the music room, which was professionally soundproofed, but there was an off-chance that Hoseok might have caught them in the hall in front of her bedroom moments ago– and if that was the case, they would be screwed.

Hoseok 🦊: Idk, things seem weird between you guys. Tense

Hoseok 🦊: Did you have a fight or something???

Y/N let out a breath that could blow down a house. So, Hoseok hadn’t caught her and Yoongi red-handed before they could figure out how to explain their… changed relationship dynamic. Once again, she had raced to conclusions. Y/N had been an idiot not to realize that the other hybrids definitely picked up on the odd distance her and Yoongi were suspended in.

Y/N: Yeah, I guess we had a few disagreements recently. I talked to him tonight though, we’ve patched everything up

Hoseok 🦊: Oh, good! I don’t like seeing you so sad 🥺

Hoseok 🦊: and Yoongi’s cooking has been bland or bitter lately. Even the coffee sucks

Y/N: you could always do the cooking you know, honey

Y/N: thank you for worrying about me Hoseok 🦊💕

Y/N bit her still kiss-swollen lower lip thinking about her fox hybrid, probably cozy in his bed in the basement, the space heater no doubt blasting, sleepily texting her to make sure she was okay after her piano lesson with Yoongi. Contrary to Hoseok’s teasing nature, he was always looking out for Y/N in his own way. It made her feel warm all over, as she reached for her nightstand to switch off her lamp, when her phone chimed again– this time, a message from a different sender.

Yoongi 👼🏻: sleep well.

Y/N: love you, angel

Yoongi 👼🏻: I love you too, my silly girl

“Earth to Y/N,” Hoseok chuckled, squeezing the meat of one of her cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, Y/N realizing that she had been staring at the fox hybrid’s neck absently while she got lost in her thoughts. “Where did you just go?”

Using a gentle tap on his wrist to bat Hoseok’s hand away from her heated cheeks, she snapped back to the present, cocking her head and resuming her task of fixing the collar of his shirt.

“I’m right here, honey,” Y/N murmured, trying to figure out how to either dodge his earlier question or figure out how to dance around the truth. “Everything’s fine now. Haven’t you noticed he hasn’t burnt the coffee lately?”

Hoseok snorted, hands shooting out to wiggle his fingers against her ribcage, tickling her sides and making her giggle in response. Concern dissolved from Hoseok’s eyes at the sound, one of his russet ears flickering playfully, relenting on his tickling attack by hooking one of his elbows around Y/N’s.

“Let’s look around. I think Jinnie misses you,” Hoseok changed the subject, dropping his serious demeanor and going right back to his default cheeriness with that whistle tone of his.

“Oh really? You didn’t miss me at all, just Seokjinnie?” Y/N teased, feeling Hoseok’s full tail brush the back of her thighs through her tights. “Here I was, missing you, and you just came to ferry me over to someone else!”

Again, Hoseok snorted, though Y/N could swear a peachy blush bloomed across his cheekbones.

“You know, darling, you’re getting better and better at flirting these days. Maybe you’ll be on my level in a few months,” Hoseok quipped, making Y/N use their hooked elbows to nudge his side in embarrassment.

“Who said I was flirting?” Y/N mumbled, under her breath and to no one in particular.

Hoseok whistled again, towing her along as they weaved through the crowd of hybrids and their families. Amongst the sea of bodies in the room, the only other hybrid of hers that Y/N could spot was Jeongguk, who’s antlers were visible towards the front door of the rec center. Y/N suspected he was attempting to sneak out for a smoke.

Hoseok dragged her to a corner of the room, near another table full of Christmas cookies and cocktails, where Seokjin and Jimin were lingering with little cups of alcoholic eggnog. Both of them, of course, looked impossibly handsome, their ears immediately perking up as they no doubt caught Y/N’s scent.

Seokjin turned first, dressed in a navy suit Y/N helped him pick out to compliment his fiery eyes, a few buttons of his cream-colored oxford shirt undone at the top to accommodate the wideness of his chest. Y/N discovered that finding shirts that fit the jaguar hybrid’s frame was rather challenging– one size would be too baggy for his trim waist, and another not quite large enough for his broad shoulders. Despite that, however, he always managed to look absolutely perfect.

Seokjin was grinning, his cheeks rosy from the eggnog, his eyes dragging up and down Y/N’s form in a way that had her squirming under his scrutiny. It was all she could do earlier to talk him off a ledge when she came out of her room in a dress, and not swaddled up in ski wear. Now, with alcohol flooding through him… his gaze was a bit more heated as opposed to disapproving.

Jimin, on the other hand, was mid-sip of his drink, nodding in acknowledgement as her and Hoseok appeared in front of him, looking sharp in a classic black suit and brand-new shiny loafers. The coyote hybrid even broke out some of the jewelry he had brought with him from Montana; silver bracelets and hoop earrings, the holiday lights glinting off of them. Seeing Jimin so dressed up had her feeling dizzy, as his usual uniform was rugged blue jeans and well-worn tee shirts so he could comfortably take care of the animals in the stable. As if he could read her mind, Jimin winked at her, setting his empty glass down on the table with a wry smirk.

“Uh, has anyone seen Tae in the last fifteen minutes? I still haven’t seen his photos, he disappeared on me,” Y/N cleared her throat, overwhelmed by the three incredibly handsome, incredibly well-dressed hybrids surrounding her like a pack of wolves.

Seokjin shook his head with a pout, probably thinking that he had somehow disappointed her by not having information, and Hoseok had busied himself by stacking more cookies onto his cocktail napkin. Really, the only one who actually warmed up to Taehyung was Yoongi, and Y/N wasn’t about to seek out the leopard hybrid when fantasies of him were still running rampant in her mind.

“I just saw him a moment ago, talking to the club leader. He had a big frame under his arm, I think he was likely swapping it out for another,” Jimin lifted his nose in the air and took a delicate inhale, Y/N wondering if he was trying to locate Taehyung by scent.

“Tae-tae will come out of the woodwork when he’s ready. I wouldn’t dare try and find him before he’s ready, remember the time you walked by him editing photos on your laptop? I thought he was going to have a stroke, ‘they’re not done yet!’,” Hoseok mimicked Taehyung’s deep voice, a playful look on his face as Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Even if you’re being an ass about it, you’re right,” Y/N admitted, glancing around the room once more to try and see if she could spot Namjoon or Jeongguk. “Looks like Joonie’s hiding from me too.”

“No he’s not. He’s just in the bathroom,” Hoseok took Y/N’s empty champagne from her, replacing it with a new one. Ever since Halloween, Hoseok had made quite impressive progress in being able to hang around Namjoon without flinching or blanching. “The elk is the one you have to worry about. He might hotwire your car to get out of here, he’s been adjusting his suit all night like it’s giving him a rash.”

“He doesn’t even know how to drive, Hoseok,” Y/N grumbled, though the thought had crossed her mind. “You’re gonna get a stomach ache if you eat all those cookies, by the way.”

“I’m just making sure I eat enough calories for my meet!” Hoseok exclaimed, green-and-red sprinkles stuck to the corners of his mouth as his eyes went wide.

“Your next meet is in four days,” Seokjin pointed out helpfully, Hoseok nearly choking on his bite of frosted sugar cookie. “You don’t need to be carb-loading now.”

“Jinnie, at least you know my schedule,” Hoseok clapped a hand over Seokjin’s back, making the jaguar hybrid nearly spill his eggnog all over the front of Y/N’s dress, causing him to hiss sharply.

“Quit doing that! I almost ruined her pretty dress,” Seokjin yanked on one of Hoseok’s triangular ears, a yelp coming from Hoseok pitifully. Y/N, however, was too busy bashfully staring down at her dress that Seokjin apparently thought was pretty.

“You two better cut it out, or we’re going to get thrown out,” Jimin rolled his eyes, pushing honey hair off of his face with disdain. If there was one thing the coyote hybrid couldn’t stand, it was the others drawing unnecessary attention to themselves.

Snapping out of her daze, she herded the three hybrids away from the refreshments table and the cocked eyebrows of several onlookers, one hand on Jimin’s back and the other around Seokjin’s bicep, mindful of the drinks in their hands.

“So, when do you think we can get out of here? I miss my sweats,” Hoseok leaned against a cinderblock wall, eyes narrowed on photographs on display across from him; a collection of landscape photos by a young calico hybrid girl, who was proudly showing her work to her family.

“That’s up to Tae. We’re staying as long as he wants,” Y/N again tried to find Taehyung in the busy room, and finally spotted him over in the corner where his work was in his last expo.

He appeared pensive, hands tucked into the pockets of his emerald green velvet suit jacket, eyebrows pulled together as he bent low to stare at one of his pictures. Instead of catching him off guard and peeking at his pictures before they were ready, Y/N fished her phone she had tucked away in Seokjin’s suit pocket for safekeeping, smiling softly at the startled purr he responded with.

Y/N: I’m sure they look beautiful, can we see them now?

Taehyung paused, probably feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket, lowering his eyes from the framed pictures on the wall to check his phone. A whisper of a secret grin formed on his lips, his wild dark curls covering the upper part of his face as he began to type out a response.

Tae 🐻: Okay, they’re ready. They put everything in the wrong order and frames, that’s why it took so long for me to fix

Y/N: Heading over to you now, can’t wait!

“Thanks for holding onto this for me, honey,” Y/N handed her phone back to Seokjin, who promptly tucked it back into his suit pocket, shaking his head as if to say ‘don’t mention it’. “Tae said he’s ready, should we check out his pictures?”

Hoseok began muttering, still not entirely warm and fuzzy towards the Kodiak hybrid, but followed her, Seokjin, and Jimin to Taehyung awaiting them. Along the way, she was able to snag Jeongguk by his shirt cuff– he had managed to ditch his sport jacket and was just in his black button down.

“What, did you go to the car and leave your jacket in there when you went out to smoke? Won’t you be cold later?” Y/N scolded, tugging on his cuff with a reproachful look. Jeongguk simply scoffed, but allowed her to drag him across the room.

“You keep forgetting we run hotter than you do,” Jeongguk responded, using his free hand to flick her forehead softly, something he seemed to really enjoy doing lately.

She knew she didn’t have to call out for Namjoon or Yoongi. The former would appear when he wanted, considering he and Taehyung were still not the friendliest to each other, and Yoongi would always show up when she thought of him– as if they had some sort of telepathy that connected them. For all Y/N knew, perhaps they did, stranger things had happened in her life.

Thinking of the devil, her leopard hybrid slunk from the shadows, meeting her and the others by the window where Taehyung was waiting. Yoongi offered her a private side-eye, taking his time giving her a once-over. While the others weren’t looking, she mouthed ‘stop that’ to him, before promptly tearing her attention from him in order to put it all on Taehyung. Breaking free from Seokjin and Hoseok, Y/N approached Taehyung with an excited expression, already reaching out to hook one of her arms around his waist.

“Mm, you look nice in this color, Tae,” Y/N murmured lowly, using her fingertips to brush along the soft velvet of his suit jacket. Indeed, the dark green brought out the deep red in his eyes, and complimented the honeyed shade of his skin.

Taehyung leaned into her embrace, chuckling softly at her compliment. Y/N was too preoccupied soaking in every microexpression and how beautiful he looked to immediately take a look at his pictures on the wall, enjoying the scent of sandalwood mingling with fruity champagne that was coming off of Taehyung so temptingly.

“We don’t have to stay for much longer, I know Foxy wants to leave…” Taehyung said, in his signature whispery voice; a private moment between the two of them.

“We leave whenever you’re ready, Tae! Don’t listen to Hoseok, he just likes to whine,” Y/N frowned, pinching Tae’s side for emphasis. Behind her and to the left a little ways away, she heard Hoseok squawking in disbelief. “Okay, I’m dying to know what your photos look like!”

Clearing his throat, Taehyung took a step forward, Y/N slightly stumbling along as her arm was still linked around his waist. It was then when she could get a long-awaited look at Taehyung’s work, which was lit up with twinkling Christmas lights draped around the partition wall the frames were fastened to.

Y/N didn’t know what to focus on first. Compared to his previous expos, where there were only about four to six images on display, there were eight rather large prints on the wall this time, all arranged in a circle around a ninth photograph, the largest of all. Taking a breath, Y/N released her hold on Taehyung to edge a step nearer.

The photo in the center was one of their house, taken recently at night, by the looks of it. Leaves of the willow trees were stripped bare, and the grass in front of the porch frosty and crystallized. Though the picture of the house was in black and white, it was still apparent that most of the lights in the house were on– Y/N could see Yoongi’s and Jimin’s bedroom lamps on, and the chandelier in the foyer was visible. Even the Christmas lights and garland wrapped around the porch and pillars could be detected, and the home looked merry and festive, full of life. It reminded her, compared to how it looked through Taehyung’s lens, of how she had longed the house to be so lived-in only days before she actually adopted any of the hybrids.

It seemed that Taehyung really loved their home. He always managed to sneak a picture of it into his presentation at the expo, and each time it made her chest squeeze with an emotion she could not match to the sensation. Blindly, she extended her hand backwards, searching for Taehyung, and his broad palm immediately slipped into her grasp.

The other pictures were all portraits of himself, the other six hybrids, and Y/N, and each portrait was in a horizontal frame– a black and white outtake of each of them when Taehyung took their ID photos, and a colored candid directly next to it. At the top of the circle around the house was Y/N’s set of pictures; the ID outtake of her looking sheepish, hand over her chest as Hoseok’s hand in the frame was pulling a flyaway hair out of her berry lip gloss. The colored one, in juxtaposition, was Y/N slightly slumped over her morning cup of coffee, dressed in her Stevie Nicks-type clothing before she headed off to work, completely unaware that Taehyung was snapping pictures of her.

Y/N had grown used to Taehyung taking pictures of her by now, so she wasn’t totally surprised that she was part of his expo. That said, she still couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed that she was on display, and that all of her hybrids were completely ignoring their own portraits to point and exclaim at Y/N’s. Taehyung squeezed her hand gently, and Y/N pretended she didn’t care what the others were saying about her portrait, and instead studied the others.

Y/N had already seen the ID outtakes of the other hybrids, as she had helped Taehyung pick the best ones out to send in for the physical copies of the IDs, but she delighted in seeing them again, and was even more fascinated by the candids she hadn’t seen before. Jimin’s candid was him in the backyard, riding Vista around the exercise pen at sunset with a carefree expression, the colors of gold and orange warming her up from the inside out. Below him was Hoseok, grinning wryly at someone off-camera after an afternoon run, a sweat towel around his neck and a water bottle clutched in his hand– Y/N could practically hear the picture. Next was Jeongguk, though the picture taken of him was from behind, and apparently by Taehyung positioned at the threshold of Jeongguk’s bedroom door. Only a hint of Jeongguk’s side profile was visible, a cigarette poised between his lips as he leaned over his balcony, eyelashes almost brushing his cheek as he read from his journal.

“Little voyeuristic of you to stand in my room taking pictures of me, don’t you think, bear?” Jeongguk lifted a pierced brow, scrunching up his nose in an accusatory manner.

“It’s not like you didn’t hear or smell me standing there. You could have told me to fuck off,” Taehyung responded blandly, Y/N extremely surprised that he used such language in a public setting. Jeongguk, too, seemed somewhat impressed that Taehyung challenged him back.

At the bottom of the circle were Taehyung’s self-portraits. Instead of taking a picture of himself in the mirror like he had for his very first expo, his “candid” was one of Taehyung laying on his side in the music room on the floor, headphones on, listening to his record collection. From the angle that the photo was taken, Y/N figured he had placed his camera on top of the turntable. It was a lovely picture of him, the soft mid-morning light filtering in from the windows and striking one of his eyes just so that the viewer of the image could pick up on the carmine hue of his irises.

“These are really gorgeous, Tae,” Y/N felt her throat grow thick, emotions beginning to overwhelm her as she examined picture after picture of her boys. “How did you come up with this idea?”

Y/N waited for Taehyung’s response while she moved onto Yoongi’s pictures, her heart skipping a beat or two. Pressing a hand to her mouth to contain her grin, she realized that in Yoongi’s candid– which was of him putting away groceries in the pantry– half of her body was in the frame, handing Yoongi boxes of sugary cereal Namjoon favored. Yoongi looked soft, in loungewear that he typically donned to the grocery store.

“We were given a theme to work with…” Taehyung said ambiguously, waiting for Y/N to soak in every photograph and figure it out on her own, perhaps.

The final two, Seokjin and Namjoon, might have been her favorites. The eldest hybrid’s photo was him curled up in the breakfast nook with a copy of Pride and Prejudice, his tail wrapped around his waist, and a steaming cup of coffee in one of his hands. Y/N was fond of the particular expression Seokjin was wearing in that photograph, deep concentration and immersion with his thick eyebrows pulled together, hair mussed off of his forehead because he’d play with it while he read.

Finally, to the left of Y/N’s portraits on the top of the circle was Namjoon’s, and in stark difference to his stern-looking ID outtake, he was all soft edges and dimples in the colored photograph. It was the only picture that Y/N remembered Taehyung actually taking, as it was right over her shoulder while her and Namjoon were in the middle of a chess match, the fireplace roaring behind Namjoon while he kicked her ass yet again. Considering Taehyung and Namjoon still barely tolerated one another past a begrudging “good morning” every now and again, the picture perfectly encapsulated how much Namjoon could soften around others when his guard was down.

By then, Y/N was on the verge of tears, so overcome with love for each of her hybrids that she couldn’t help but turn on her heel to face-plant directly into Taehyung’s chest, squeezing him until an animalistic wheeze came from the depths of his lungs.

“Y/N, did you see the picture he took of me? I should make that my Instagram profile picture, what do you think?” Hoseok crowed from behind her, no doubt clocking how attractive he looked in it. “I’m glad you didn’t pick that other one for my ID, though. My left ear was drooping.”

Y/N was too busy pressing her face further into Taehyung’s silky black button-down, squashing down tears as best she could. She always bought Taehyung’s prints after an expo, but all she wanted then and there was to pull each frame off of the wall and squirrel them off to her car like a bandit. In her head, she could see all of the pictures lining the walls up the stairwell…

“She okay?” Namjoon joined the clump of them standing around Taehyung’s exhibit, his voice beside her and Taehyung as she held onto the Kodiak hybrid for dear life.

Taehyung grunted in response, one of his hands smoothing down the back of her head soothingly, though she could feel his chest rumbling in what she assumed was minor amusement.

“She’s just sappy,” Yoongi helpfully volunteered, his gravelly voice sounding bored and a bit distant. Last time she caught him out of the corner of her eye, he was leaning against the window a few feet from everyone else.

“Oh! All of your subjects are here, Taehyung?” A new voice joined the conversation, Y/N recognizing it as the woman who ran the hybrid photography club. Vaguely mortified, Y/N pulled herself together enough to release Taehyung and face the woman, who was admiring the photos of Y/N, her hybrids, and their home. “You’ve improved so much these past couple of months. Your exhibit turned out wonderfully– sorry about the frame mixup, by the way. Lost in translation!”

Taehyung simply shook his head, his neck flushing with all of the attention on him, one of his fists bunched up in the fabric of Y/N’s dress, right where her waist met her hip.

“So, did you tell them the theme of tonight’s expo?” The woman prompted, smiling warmly at Taehyung like she was more than used to his quiet, reserved nature.

“I think he likes for us to guess,” Hoseok piped up, biting his tongue mischievously as Jimin lightly stepped on his foot with an agitated twitch to his sandy ear.

“No guesses?” The woman placidly asked, folding her plum-polished fingers delicately around her champagne flute. Taehyung stiffened beside Y/N as if to brace himself, and both her and most of the hybrids either shrugged or shook their heads.

“Well, the theme was family, of course! Of home!”

Y/N thought she might have squeaked out a surprised ‘oh’, but she couldn’t be sure with the ringing in her ears as she processed that very significant scrap of information. She wasn’t the only flabbergasted one, every other hybrid had varying levels of disbelief and pure shock on their faces. Taehyung wasn’t one to be brotherly with the rest of them, in fact he usually avoided interacting with them if he could, so for the Kodiak hybrid to include them in a family-themed exhibit was dumbfounding, though incredibly sweet.

“Here I was, thinking it was expectations versus reality,” Hoseok broke the stunned silence, always the one to bounce back immediately when something unexpected unfolded.

The group leader snorted over the rim of her champagne glass, Taehyung’s posture loosening up once the tension was broken, Y/N composing herself once more by allowing a giggle to escape at Hoseok’s remark, once again grateful for the fox hybrid’s ability to bring ease into any sort of situation.

“Oh dear! I forgot to check up on how much champagne we have in the back room. I think we may have underestimated how many people would enjoy the signature cocktail,” the woman interrupted the somewhat-awkward giggling amongst her, Hoseok, and Seokjin, though Y/N had a suspicion she was making something up so she could let them all have a private moment. “Enjoy the rest of the expo!”

With that, she disappeared into the festive crowd, and Y/N began staring lovingly at Taehyung’s pictures once more. Some of her boys took that as their cue to be dismissed, Namjoon and Jeongguk fading into the masses of people in search of a fresh cocktail, Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin moving on to check out other exhibits. Yoongi had long since evaporated as soon as the awkward giggling began minutes prior, Y/N managing to catch him heading towards the bathroom with a hand over his mouth to hide his amusement.

So, she was left with just Taehyung in front of his photos, suddenly at a loss at what to say to him, if anything at all.

“Um… sorry. She can be a little corny,” Taehyung murmured, Y/N craning her neck to meet Taehyung’s eyes once he spoke. Snorting, she nudged Taehyung’s hip with her own.

“Actually, she reminds me a bit of my mom. I guess she can be corny, too, though,” Y/N admitted, watching Taehyung step in front of her and block her view of the pictures on the wall.

“You really like them? You don’t think anyone minded that I displayed pictures of them, do you?” Taehyung asked vulnerably, a subtle pout jutting out his lower lip as he made eye contact with her intensely.

“I don’t think anyone was upset, no! I mean, you know Jeongguk. He was just being a smartass, as per usual,” Y/N put both of her hands on Taehyung’s shoulders, brushing off imaginary dust in an attempt to relax his tensed muscles. “They turned out beautifully. I love them, Tae.”

“Do you want to bring these copies home? The club leader said I could take them,” Taehyung asked shyly, apparently convinced by her words of encouragement.

“Absolutely. I’m going to hang them up as soon as we get them back home,” Y/N replied cheerily, squeezing his shoulders for emphasis. Home. Their home.

Taehyung then grinned, wide and splitting his breathtaking face in two, Y/N sliding one of her hands from his shoulder to his forehead, brushing his curls out of his eyes, going as far as tucking it back so his entire forehead was exposed. Taehyung eagerly leaned into the touch, and Y/N imagined if his tail was long like some of the other hybrid’s, it would be wagging back and forth happily.

“Ah, I’m excited to go home now. It’s too crowded in here,” Taehyung spoke with his eyes shut, cheek smushed into Y/N’s palm.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mm-hmm. Can we go now?”

Y/N rocked upwards as much as her high-heels could allow, placing a gentle kiss on Taehyung’s cheek that she wasn’t cradling in her palm, pulling away swiftly with a goofy grin. In the wake of the kiss, left behind was Taehyung gawking, and a stamp of berry-colored lip gloss in the shape of her lips on his cheek.

“Help me get these down from the wall, and we’ll head home, okay Tae?”

“Wait. The painfully shy one, the bear, is okay with a bunch of us coming over on his birthday? We can always postpone, make it a New Year’s party instead,” Alice, over Facetime with a sheet mask over her face disguising her utter disbelief, squawked.

“I mean, that was my suggestion to him, too. Obviously everyone is busy on Christmas Eve– Ben and Roy with Daisy, and obviously you with little Kai, Laura,” Y/N had her phone propped up on a sack of flour in the kitchen, the morning of December 23rd, on her weekly 3-way call with the Santos twins. “But he was the one who insisted everyone come over on the 30th. I almost keeled over.”

“He must be getting more comfortable around everyone, Y/N! That’s really great, I’m happy for him,” Laura exclaimed, her eyes sparkling as she wrote something down in her day planner– probably organizing talking points for her next family vlog.

“It’s either that, or he’s too considerate. I mean, ever since his photography expo a week ago, it’s been non-stop last minute gift shopping, wrapping, decorating, and baking. I think if I were hosting a party tomorrow, I’d go insane.”

“Aw, so he probably noticed you’ve got a lot going on. He’s a sweetheart, huh?” Alice cooed, Y/N clapping excess flour off of her hands as she nodded in agreement. She was elbow-deep in gingerbread at the moment, and she was pretty sure she had flour in places that were unspeakable.

“You guys have your tree up already, right? Namjoon and Jeongguk helped me drag the box with ours in it last week. Let me tell you, it’s so much easier to have two 170-pound men help you lug that thing up from the basement rather than my two possibly anemic cousins,” Y/N snorted, recalling how easily the wolf and elk hybrids carried the comically ginormous box containing the fake Christmas tree up the basement stairs.

“Are you trying to brag right now?” Alice accused, her eyebrow visibly cocked even under the facemask that covered her expression. “We get it. They’re hunky.”

“Shhh! Alice!” Laura hissed with embarrassment while looking up from her planner, Y/N simply waving her hand in the air at the comment.

“Don’t sweat it, Laura. Everyone’s out. My mom took them Christmas shopping in her minivan about an hour ago,” Y/N airly chuckled, the mental image of her mother shepherding each of her boys into a crumpled little van that morning to take them to the local mall. For what, she could hardly guess.

“You’re lucky your mom is obsessed with hybrids,” Alice said, going back to applying red varnish on her nails.

“I’m lucky that she got them out of my hair long enough to wrap the stockpile of gifts I have hidden in the fucking attic,” Y/N countered, blowing hair out of her face as she slid the last sheet of gingerbread into the oven. “I love them, but my god. Up my ass like a window shade lately.”

“It’s because you’ve been sneaking around with gifts like the goddamn Grinch! What, did you need a crowbar to pry open the attic door? Did you find the ghost of Paul Revere up there?” Alice exclaimed, as if the reason for the hybrid’s increased clinginess was due to her making excuses to go up to the attic through Seokjin’s room routinely.

“That would be sick, actually. It is fucking creepy up there, though. I might get Jeongguk to help me sort through all of the junk up there in the spring, just in case there’s a demon hiding in my grandmother’s old hat collection,” Y/N relished in the sound of Laura’s lilting laugh, something she found she missed more than anything those days. “So, what is Santa bringing for Kai, Laur?”

“Oh, Santa is bringing him one of those plastic play-kitchens. You know, with the fake food and little bowls and whatnot. A tricycle, too, which I fear might mark up my floors until Tyler can bring him outside in the spring to ride it around the block,” Laura played along, toying with one of the braids skimming her collar bones. “He’s going to be three next year, so no more rattles…”

“My little nephew!” Alice pouted pitifully, pretending to blink away tears at the camera. “He’s growing so fast, soon Auntie Alice will be taking him for his first driving lesson.”

“Dear god, anyone but you,” Laura scoffed, looking horrified. “Love you, Al, but you’re not the first person I’d pick to show him how to parallel park.”

The girls continued to chat for 10 more minutes, until Y/N pulled the last batch of gingerbread men out of the oven and set them on a cooling rack. It was about time for her to tackle wrapping the rest of the boy’s presents and stick them under the tree before they returned from the mall with her mother. After shooting off a few texts to people she wanted to have over for the Christmas party/Taehyung’s birthday, Y/N began shuffling back and forth between the attic and the wrapping station she had set up in the parlor, quickly beginning to sweat between the flannel of her festive pajamas and the blazing fire in the room she was wrapping gifts in.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed, as Y/N had papercut-raw fingertips and at least 35 gifts under the tree, and her Christmas playlist had looped three times. As it was approaching evening, and it was the holidays, after all, Y/N poured herself a glass of wine before she started tackling the stockings that were hanging over the mantle, all crowded together. Her mother had graciously dropped stockings off for her and the hybrids that morning, each with crocheted names on the fabric.

Y/N wasn’t used to being away from all of the boys at once, for that long, since she adopted them. Usually, there was always one or two of them hanging around at home with her, even if the rest were at a club. At first, she was a tad relieved to have some time to talk to her friends freely over the phone, be as klutzy as she wanted without one of them flipping their lids, or even getting control of the wireless speaker; but as evening had the the house growing darker and quieter, she felt it was time to give her mother a call for her ETA with the boys.

While she was dropping little knick-knacks into Jimin’s stocking, the cellphone balanced between her cheek and shoulder beeped morosely– her mother sent her directly to voicemail. Cursing, she continued to fill up the stockings, trying a different number.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Yoongi’s voice came through the receiver, though the lovely melody of it was muffled by commotion all around him. Even through the phone, she could hear Hoseok’s loud voice, and the rushing noises of a car speeding down the highway.

“Nothing’s wrong, angel, just wondering when you’ll be back. My mom wasn’t picking up,” Y/N smirked, heart feeling full that she could detect concern in his tone.

“W-we, uh, okay, oh! Um, hold on, Y/N,” Yoongi fumbled with his phone, Y/N cringing as she listened to the commotion on the other end of the line.

“Honey? Sorry, my phone died fifteen minutes ago,” her mother’s voice suddenly replaced Yoongi’s, and Y/N had no doubt that she had stolen his phone from him. “We’re on our way back now. You better lock yourself in your room though, the boys have some wrapping to do.”

“What do you mean? I thought you were getting gifts for them,” Y/N stilled, elbow-deep in Namjoon’s stocking, dropping the Barnes and Noble gift card into the garment with shock.

“I finished shopping for them weeks ago, honey. I’ll drop their gifts off tomorrow. Jesus, honey, I gotta focus, okay? I hate driving at night,” Y/N could hear someone honking at her mother, who typically drove like a geriatric hospital patient. “Go hide in your room. Namjoon says he has a house key, so don’t leave the door unlocked or anything!”

“Wait, mom–” Y/N cursed when her mother hung up on her promptly, hurriedly placing the last few items into Namjoon’s stocking. “Oh, my poor boys… been with that loon all day…”

Swallowing a large mouthful of wine, Y/N blinked at the stockings hanging over the fireplace, the thirty second phone call finally sinking in. If her mother didn’t take the hybrids to the mall to pick things out for themselves, did that mean they were shopping for her? Squeaking, Y/N snatched up her bottle of wine and scrambled to her bedroom, giving the parlor a cursory glance to make sure she had stacked all of the gifts under the tree properly.

It only took fifteen minutes after the phone call for Y/N to hear car doors slamming from her spot on her bed, drinking her wine straight from the bottle like a cavewoman. All she wanted was to greet them at the door, feel Seokjin squeeze her tight, hear Namjoon diligently hanging the house keys back up on the wall hook, and listen to Hoseok chatter about his day without her.

She strained her ears, hearing someone shove the key into the door and slide the deadbolt back, before absolute chaos echoed throughout the house. Seven different voices, all at once, filing into the foyer, the sound of shoes being kicked off and plastic bags crinkling against one another. Already, Y/N could hear Namjoon calling out orders on where to put everything, and she thought she heard him ask the room if anyone knew how to wrap. Snickering into her hand, Y/N took another swig of her wine, footsteps growing softer as they all headed into the parlor.

“Christ almighty,” Y/N sighed, praying that no one would cheat and peek into their stockings. Her eyes snapped open when she heard a knock on her bedroom door.

“Coming,” Y/N jumped up from bed, bumping her hip sharply into one of her bedposts, swearing quietly. “Fuck me.”

Cracking the door open, she almost immediately, and embarrassingly, melted on the spot, Yoongi’s cold-flushed face appearing in front of her.

“Hi,” she greeted shyly, opening the door a bit wider so he could lean on the doorframe. He was still wearing his dark blue puffer jacket, a fond smile on his lips. “Missed you.”

In the couple of weeks her and Yoongi’s relationship had… changed, the two of them hadn’t had too much alone time. In fact, the previous Friday, she couldn’t even have her weekly piano lesson with him, as she had got called into work when her boss fell ill– so Y/N had to deal with secret longing glances and the ‘normal’ amount of cuddling and affection around everyone else in order to avoid suspicion. Y/N had no idea when she would even be able to have a conversation with Yoongi about how to break the news to the other hybrids. All she knew was it was near-torture to not be able to kiss him whenever she wanted, to scream from the roof that she loved him.

“Did you?” Yoongi raised an eyebrow, teasing light dancing in his beautiful hazel eyes, Y/N offering him a sardonic grin.

“Don’t be a dick. You know I did,” Y/N whispered, desperate to retain some privacy. Hopefully, with her Christmas playlist still booming and looping in the parlor, along with what sounded like Seokjin and Hoseok loudly bickering, that their moment would go unnoticed. “How was it today? You guys didn’t buy me stuff, did you?”

Yoongi scoffed, totally affronted, all while tucking a loose strand of hair behind Y/N’s ear tenderly. The contact had her shivering like she was standing out in the cold in her underwear.

“Who else would we get gifts for, silly girl? Each other? Please,” Yoongi cocked his head, likely noticing how Y/N was inching closer and closer to his warmth. “I noticed all of those boxes under the tree. What, you’re allowed to get us stuff, but not the other way around?”

“Stop pissing me off. I’ve barely gotten to talk to you alone in two weeks,” Y/N huffed, ready to close the door in his face at that point, no matter how much she wanted to squeeze him until he couldn’t breathe.

Yoongi chuckled, tucking his hands into his jacket pocket lazily. Though he appeared nonchalant, his expression was soft in ways that had her heart aching.

“I’ll come and get you when everyone’s done wrapping. Seokjin wouldn’t shut up about watching Christmas movies with you all day,” Yoongi said, Y/N feeling her cheeks heat up at the mental image of her seven boys tying bows around things that they picked out for her. “Oh. We brought home some food from that Indian restaurant by the mall for dinner, too.”

“Ooh, I love that place. We’ll eat while we watch the movies, after you’re all done,” Y/N couldn’t help but pout a little knowing that their alone time was nearly up, already light on the balls of her feet to collapse back onto her bed until he came back to fetch her. “Okay. I won’t keep you, then, angel.”

Before she could turn, Yoongi grabbed her by the waist, a sexy, deadly purr rumbling from his chest as he glanced down at her through his eyelashes. Heart hammering, she found herself frozen in time, completely under his spell.

“Hold on, baby,” Yoongi warned softly, his fingertips scorching even over the fabric of her flimsy cotton pajamas. “Gimme a kiss first.”

Though his voice was gentle, his statement was a demand, not a request, and Y/N had no qualms giving him what he desired. Besides– it’s what she wanted more than anything, as well. Wanting to wipe the expectant look off of his face, she stepped even closer to Yoongi, looping her arms around his neck.

Easily, she leaned her body weight onto the leopard hybrid, melding their chests together without prompting, watching his eyes flutter shut and lips part slightly in anticipation. Not even caring if anyone else could walk by at any moment, Y/N decided to tease Yoongi a little, giving the tip of his nose a kiss and pretending to pull away. Quietly growling, Yoongi tightened his hold on Y/N’s waist, taking matters into his own hands by slotting his lips against hers, Y/N releasing a sigh she hadn’t realized she was holding onto.

The kiss was chaste, for the most part, void of the desperate passion from two weeks ago, after their confession. Yoongi hummed into her mouth, thumbs rubbing circles into waist, Y/N feeling like she was free-falling as he held her. Y/N wanted more, pressing herself closer to him until they were completely flush, Yoongi grunting as her hips collided with his.

“Mmph– easy, baby,” Yoongi groaned quietly, rearing his head backwards so Y/N couldn’t plant another kiss on his mouth. “Don’t wanna get caught, do you?”

“I don’t care,” Y/N whined, tugging the ends of Yoongi’s hair at the nape of his neck, making him shiver and shake his head.

“Yes you do, sweetheart,” Yoongi countered, removing both of her hands from around his neck, though pressing a kiss to each of her palms before releasing her wrists. “As much as I’d like to indulge you in your earlier request, now’s not the time.”

“What are you talking about, earlier request–” Y/N began, before Hoseok was loudly calling for Yoongi from the kitchen, making her spring apart from Yoongi like he shocked her with a wire.

“I’ll come get you in a bit, sit tight, okay?” Yoongi gave her waist a quick squeeze, winking, before setting off down the hall before she could catch him by his coat, his tail curling behind him languidly.

In a daze, Y/N shut her bedroom door, stiffly perching on the end of her bed and taking a deep swing from the bottle of wine she left on the floor prior to Yoongi’s interruption. It was several moments later when it dawned on her– the “earlier request”– when she bumped her hip against her bedpost, she exclaimed “Fuck me”.

Christmas morning, Y/N miraculously woke up without a hangover, despite the amount of cocktails she had during the Christmas Eve movie marathon she had with the hybrids. In fact, she jumped out of bed like there were ants in her pajama pants, eager to get a head start on everything she had planned for that morning. After freshening up, she headed straight for the hallway, only stopping to peer into Namjoon’s room– the wolf hybrid wasn’t in there, though. She found him, along with Seokjin, in the kitchen already, both still in their pajamas and fixing up their morning cup of coffee.

“Morning, you two! Merry Christmas,” Y/N made her way to the refrigerator, taking out the sheet of French toast she had soaking in custard overnight. “Oh, you preheated the oven for me, Seokjinnie? Thank you!”

Seokjin hovered behind her while she slid the sheet into the oven, Y/N feeling his body heat as she straightened up, no doubt waiting for a hug, as he always did every single morning. Before she could turn to do so, she squeaked, feeling Seokjin wrap his arms around her middle and rest his chin on her shoulder, tail curling around her thigh. Apparently, he wasn’t keen on waiting that morning.

“Oof– gentle, Seokjin, I’m not going anywhere,” Y/N giggled, ticklish where he was nudging the tip of his nose against the side of her neck affectionately.

“When do you think Foxy is going to drag his carcass up from the basement?” Yoongi strolled into the kitchen, going right to the coffee bar and taking two mugs out of the cabinet, dutifully making a cup for himself and Y/N. “I think between him and Jeongguk, they drank an entire handle of Tito’s.”

“If he’s not up before breakfast is ready, I’ll go down there and get him. He’ll be pissed if he doesn’t get any bacon,” Y/N shuffled around the kitchen island awkwardly with Seokjin still clinging to her back, his purring growing louder and louder as she smoothed her hands up and down his forearms clasped around her middle. “Speaking of, did you wanna make the bacon, Seokjin?”

With that, the jaguar hybrid finally broke away from her, and Y/N accepted her mug of coffee from Yoongi so she could sit beside Namjoon at the breakfast nook. The wolf hybrid said nothing as she scooched close to him, practically reading over his shoulder, furrowing her eyebrows at the book he was reading.

“Is that Latin, Joonie? What are you reading? I didn’t know you could speak Latin,” Y/N rapid-fired, Namjoon patiently putting his book down so he could answer her questions.

“I don’t speak Latin, actually. This is Jeongguk’s, he asked me to take it out of the library from him. He can speak Latin, apparently… I was just leafing through,” Namjoon pushed the book towards Y/N so she could check it out, the cover ancient looking. It appeared to be some kind of book of prayers.

“How the hell did he learn Latin? It’s not like they teach hybrids how to speak a dead language in the labs when they’re kids,” Yoongi commented, giving Jimin a nod as the coyote hybrid came into the room.

“I just picked up a book and figured it out, asshole,” Jeongguk was right behind Jimin, apparently, shooting Yoongi a dirty look.

“Let’s not bicker on Christmas, okay? Chill out,” Y/N frowned, Jimin mirroring her disapproval from across the room. “We’re just waiting on Tae and Hoseok, right?”

“I’ll get Hoseok,” Seokjin volunteered, placing the tongs he was using to flip over pieces of bacon in the skillet off to the side, disappearing from the room before Y/N could protest.

“Taehyung’s up. I heard his shower going,” Yoongi remarked, taking out plates for the food.

“I can’t wait for you guys to open your gifts!” Y/N squirmed in her seat, inadvertently wiggling further into Namjoon’s space. The wolf hybrid simply remained still, allowing her to snuggle up to his side as much as she wanted. “I’m excited to see what my mom got you all too. Hopefully nothing crazy… like goats or any other kind of barnyard animal.”

“Ooh, but then we could try goat yoga, Y/N darling!” Hoseok made his grand entrance into the kitchen, looking a little disheveled with his wavy hair sticking up in multiple directions, but grinning nonetheless. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“Yeah, it would be fun to shovel goat shit or get gored to death by Black Phillip, too,” Jeongguk drawled, already stacking bacon onto his plate with a grimace.

“Party pooper,” Hoseok muttered, grabbing a plate for himself and sticking his tongue out at Jeongguk while the elk hybrid has his back to him.

Tae silently entered the room, taking up her free side on the booth, waiting for Yoongi to come around with the sheet of French toast, Y/N giving him a hair ruffle when he told her “Merry Christmas”.

Y/N ate as fast as she could, eager to get on with the gift-giving portion of the morning, and for once she was finished eating before any of the boys. She ditched them in the kitchen, heading straight to the parlor to light up the Christmas tree, start the fire, and switch on the TV station that was running holiday specials all day. She was in the middle of fluffing pillows on the couch when she stopped to stare at all of the boxes under the tree– it would probably take them at least two hours to open everything. She could tell which ones were for her; they were all clumsily wrapped with an aggressive amount of tape, and it made her smile goofily.

“What’s that?” Jeongguk was the first to come into the parlor, collapsing on the leather recliner and pointing at the TV with disgust. “Ugly bastard.”

“Um, the fucking Grinch? Have you never seen this movie?” Y/N gasped in disbelief, Jeongguk looking at her like really. “He’s not ugly. He’s misunderstood!”

“Y/N, please,” Jeongguk groaned, rubbing his temples like she was aggravating him. Actually, agitating Jeongguk was becoming her new favorite hobby.

Everyone filed in shortly after Jeongguk, taking spots on the floor and couch, and after a few moments of having to describe what The Grinch was to everyone but Yoongi, all of the hybrids were staring at her expectantly.

“Okay, to make this go faster, why don’t we all open things at once? Here, I’ll grab something for each of you…” Y/N sprung up from her spot on the couch, startling Jimin beside her enough for him to yelp.

Y/N started off with the gifts her mother had dropped off for the hybrids, plucking up the little envelope that was for her, as well. Once she returned to her seat, she found that they were all still staring at her.

“Well? Go ahead! Just stick the wrapping paper in one of the trash bags over there,” Y/N pointed to the black bag by the tree, praying to the sky that her mother got normal gifts for them. To hasten the process of all of them slowly peeling back paper like her mom had wrapped grenades for them, Y/N tore her envelope open with vigor.

“Oh my god! Guys, my mom must have gotten my grandfather’s old station wagon fixed at the shop, this is the title for it!” Y/N squealed.

“But, you already have a car,” Hoseok pointed out helpfully, the point clearly going straight over his head.

“Yeah, I do. But if she brings over the station wagon, whoever decides to sign up for driving school will have a car to use when I’m at work or whatever!” Y/N explained, waving the title in Hoseok’s face.

“Actually, that would be pretty helpful. You won’t have to drive us everywhere all the time,” Yoongi said, brushing a finger over his lips, his gift half-opened on his lap.

Taehyung, beside her, was the first to resume opening his gift, which was a flat square-shaped package. Y/N had a suspicion that it was a record, which was confirmed when he tore off the last of the paper. It was a vintage jazz record, an artist she didn’t know of, but Taehyung certainly did. It appeared that the record was signed, additionally, which had Taehyung’s cheeks turning a bright shade of pink in excitement.

Y/N was content to simply watch them all tear into the gifts, soaking in every little expression, ear flicker, and surprised sounds. Namjoon received a first-edition version of one of his favorite books, Yoongi opened a little velvet box containing a silver chain that mimicked the one he wore for his Scarface costume on Halloween, and Hoseok got a new pair of running shoes, flamboyantly colored. For Jimin, it looked like her father had picked out a special edition of the coyote hybrid’s favorite whiskey, Seokjin got a woven silver ring that went with the watch he had gotten for his birthday, and perhaps her favorite gift one of them had received so far– Jeongguk opened up a brass cigarette case, the whole room dissolving into laughter at the bewilderment on his face.

“To be fair, sweets, you’re about as subtle as a gun with your smoke breaks,” Y/N managed through laughter, watching him turn the case around in his hands.

“Actually, this is pretty nice. I think it’s an antique,” Jeongguk ignored the fact that he was being laughed at, pulling his pack of cigarettes out of his pajama pockets and beginning to fill up the case with Marlboros.

“Knowing my mom, it probably is an antique,” Y/N agreed, getting up again to pass out the next round of gifts. Clothes, mostly, all in each of their unique styles, now that she was familiar with them. She could recall that time, many months ago, when she ordered clothes for all of them without even really knowing what most of them looked like, let alone their style preferences.

There were a few more personal items she got for each hybrid; such as an Ikea bookshelf (that she’d likely have to put together herself) for Namjoon and his growing book collection and a brand-new bookbag, a nice yoga mat and a Hypervolt for Hoseok, and a big plushie of an alpaca was given to Seokjin, one that he had gushed over at the mall once when Y/N took him for his last haircut.

Y/N was so enthused, clipping the thin gold chain she had gotten for Taehyung around his throat happily, that she totally forgot about their gifts to her, which remained untouched under a sea of ripped paper beneath the tree.

“How do those shoes fit, Hoseok? Right size?” Y/N called over Taehyung’s shoulder, securing his necklace and making sure the clasp was in the back. Hoseok was flexing and pointing his feet, tail wagging in a pleased manner as he admired his new sneakers.

“They’re perfect!” Hoseok gave her an animated thumbs-up, before realization dawned across his face. “Hey, you haven’t opened anything! Jinnie, grab our gift from under the tree!”

Suddenly feeling embarrassed, Y/N accepted a lumpy package from Seokjin, who looked eager and excited, the stuffed alpaca still tucked under his arm. Y/N didn’t think he’d be letting it go anytime soon.

“This is from the two of you?” Y/N asked meekly, aware of all the eyes on her, even if half of the room was occupied checking out some of their new possessions.

“Mm-hmm! Picked it out together!” Hoseok relaxed in the chair he was sitting sideways on, his legs dangling over the armrest.

Y/N tore into the paper, and she knew immediately why the package was so lumpy– they had wrapped an article of clothing without it being in a box, making her chuckle softly. Her fingertips brushed over material that felt like a cloud, and when she stripped the last of the paper away, she held up the jacket the two hybrids picked out for her.

Made of sherpa, and baby pink in color, the jacket was so soft to the touch that she had to resist pressing her face into it. There was a pink heart embroidered on it, right over where her actual heart would be, and it had enormous pockets that could definitely handle her shoving her mitten-covered hands in. It was adorable, not something that she would have picked herself, but she absolutely loved it.

“This is so cute, guys! I love it, it’ll be perfect for all the cold weather we have coming our way,” Y/N unzipped the jacket, shrugging it on and relishing the way the sherpa felt on her skin. She reached for Seokjin’s hand beside her, giving it a squeeze and a tiny kiss on his knuckles, blowing one dramatically to Hoseok, as well.

“I liked the color, and Jinnie wanted to get you something to keep you warm, since you’re pretty bad at that,” Hoseok explained, a low, embarrassed growl coming from Seokjin.

“I love it,” Y/N repeated. I love you. “Thank you, you two!”

“Okay, me next!” Jimin announced, retrieving his– immaculately wrapped– gift for her.

Jimin got her a perfume that she had been eyeing on the Fragrantica website for weeks, as well as a book she had mentioned wanting to read by a local author, signed. Next was Taehyung and Yoongi’s gift, Y/N stunned that they actually got a joint gift that they agreed on, and it was her very own set of sheet music notebook, bound in leather, as well as a new pair of noise-canceling headphones in her favorite color. Jeongguk, sheepishly, handed her a little gift bag, the contents being a handful of crystals, a pack of hand-dipped incense, and a set of spell chime candles.

“You guys are too good to me, seriously. Look at all this stuff! Thank you,” Y/N felt herself get a little choked up, even though the parlor was a mess with cardboard, torn paper, and tissue paper, all she could think about was the amount of thought and care that went into each of them picking out gifts for her. She made her rounds in the room, giving each of them a death-squeeze, even Jeongguk, who grumbled the entire time her arms were wrapped around his neck.

“Y/N, we still need to watch Elf, remember?” Hoseok reminded her over by the bar cart, still wearing his new sneakers and in the middle of making Christmas cocktails for everyone.

“I remember! I’ll put it on in a minute, okay? I’m just going to give my parents a call and I’ll be right back,” Y/N poked Hoseok on the cheek as she walked by him, on her way to the foyer so she could make her phone call.

Escaping the blazing heat of the parlor, Y/N felt her cheeks begin to ache from how long she was grinning like a fool. She was halfway through her phone passcode in the hallway before she felt a tap on her shoulder, Y/N spinning around in confusion.

“Joonie! What’s up?” Y/N cocked her head, noting that his ears were pressed flat against his skull, like he was embarrassed.

“I… uh. I didn’t give you your gift yet,” Namjoon said awkwardly, pulling a long rectangular box out of his hoodie pocket and offering it to her. Y/N was so caught up with all of the excitement that morning that she didn’t even register that Namjoon hadn’t given her anything. “Here.”

“Oh, Joonie, you shouldn’t–”

“Yes, I should have. Open it, if you don’t like it, I’ll get something else… I’ve never really picked out anything like this for somebody before. So…” Y/N placed her hand on Namjoon’s upper arm to prevent him from babbling further, his lips slamming shut and ears perking up somewhat.

Beneath the wrapping paper was a velvet box, Y/N biting down on her lip as she pried the lid open, a sharp gasp tearing from her chest as she saw what was nestled within the box. It was a necklace– a choker, judging by the length of it– entirely made up of tiny gems, perhaps cubic zirconia, and in the center of the necklace was a blood-red gem cut in the shape of a heart, delicate and small like the rest of the gems making up the piece. While gawking at the choker, she heard Namjoon nervously shuffling from foot to foot in front of her, Y/N swallowing thickly in order to lubricate her now bone-dry esophagus.

“Joon… this is beautiful,” was all Y/N could manage, her voice breaking a little. Namjoon, even with his rough edges, had a profound sentimental side to him that Y/N only saw once in a while, and when he’d reveal it to her, she cherished every second.

“You like it?” Namjoon’s voice came out in a rush, like he was holding his breath, the orange-amber color of his eyes practically sparkling. “You’re not just saying that, right?”

“You’d know if I was lying,” Y/N retorted, running her pointer finger over the necklace in admiration, heart beating wildly.

“Do you…” Namjoon cleared his throat, gently taking the box from her grasp, taking a step closer to her. “Want to try it on? I’ll clasp it for you.”

Some questions didn’t require responses. Y/N wordlessly turned, gathering her hair in one hand to move it out of the way, waiting for the wolf hybrid to make the first move. Thankfully, he caught on keenly, Y/N shutting her eyes as she listened to Namjoon move behind her. Miraculously, she didn’t make a sound when he draped the necklace around her throat even though the gems chilled her feverish flesh, instead, Y/N focused on Namjoon’s scent. Without fail, the honeyed musk scent of his body wash had her completely relaxing into the moment, humming contentedly as Namjoon’s fingertips brushed against the sensitive skin of the nape of her neck. Distantly, she knew that she was perhaps being obvious, but Namjoon didn’t seem to notice as he deftly fastened the choker into place.

“Let me see,” Namjoon requested, using two fingers to tap the side of her neck.

Doing a goofy twirl, Y/N faced the wolf hybrid again, grabbing onto his hands for balance without a second thought. He didn’t drop his hold on her once she was still, his eyes dropping from her face to the choker around her throat.

“Pretty,” was all Namjoon said, freeing one of Y/N’s hands so he could adjust the necklace, making sure the little red heart rested in the dip of her collar bones. “Suits you.”

“I love it, Joonie. Thank you,” Y/N shivered due to how close Namjoon had gotten to her. Unable to help herself, Y/N opened her arms, yanking the wolf hybrid into an embrace, Namjoon going stiff before tentatively hugging her back, Y/N wondering if he could hear her thundering heartbeat. “My Joon bug, you’re so sweet.”

Namjoon made a noise of embarrassment, but with her cheek pressed to his chest, she could feel his heartbeat galloping just like hers.

“Here, come with me while I make my call. I bet my mom would like to say hello to you,” Y/N, sadly, let Namjoon go, tangling her hand in the hem of his forest green henley, dragging him in the direction of her bedroom. Namjoon didn’t protest, letting her tow him along with a hidden smile on his face.

“Where’s the birthday boy?” Alice sang, bustling through the front door with a large Christmas gift bag hanging off of one elbow, a platter of sugar cookies tucked balanced on her other arm. “And my little fox hybrid!”

“Hi, Al,” Y/N kissed her friend’s cheek, already a little flustered from chasing Daisy around the house with Jimin. “Let me take the cookies. Tae’s in the kitchen, so is Hoseok.”

“Laura’s already here, right?”

“Showed up at the same time as Ben and Roy!” Y/N helped Alice out of her coat, hanging it up in the closet that was nearly bursting with the amount of garments stuffed in there. “Jesus. There must be 26 coats in here. And 8 of them belong to Seokjin.”

“Oh, he’s such a cutie. Not a fan of the cold, right?” Alice followed Y/N to the kitchen, straightening out her sweater as she walked. Before they could get there, however, Alice stopped her with a poke on the shoulder, expression becoming serious. “How are things? You know, with… Yoongi?’

Alice whispered so softly, Y/N had to practically press her ear to her friend’s mouth, and once she registered what she was asking, Y/N was grateful the house was full of loud voices and music at that moment.

“Um, I’ll give you a call next time I go to work and tell you everything,” Y/N hoped that Alice would get the hint, giving her a beseeching look. “But we’re good, don’t worry about me. We’re still figuring things out, but we’re not on the outs anymore.”

Alice seemed to digest this information slowly, as if she didn’t quite believe Y/N, but let it go and continued to follow Y/N, leaning into her side as she walked.

“Fine, but I want details. Excruciating details. You promised,” Alice whisper-shouted, her face brightening once she spotted her twin sister in the kitchen, who was mingling with Roy and Jimin.

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Y/N brushed her off, feeling embarrassed. In the kitchen, all of her Christmas decorations were still up and an obscene amount of food on the island, mostly charcuterie boards she and Yoongi spent a large part of the day preparing. “Get some food before you try one of those cocktails Hoseok made. They’re pretty stiff.”

“Alice is here!” As if he was summoned, Hoseok strolled over, two fresh cocktails in his hands, offering the two girls the glasses with his stunning smile. “How’ve you been, darling? Been writing your new book?”

Alice turned on her coy smirk, using her free arm to give Hoseok a side-hug, pecking his cheek like Y/N had done to her when she arrived. Lifting an eyebrow but holding her tongue, she watched Hoseok’s smile grow even wider, smugly.

“Yeah, I’ve just finished the rough draft. It’s been a blast to write, totally different from what I usually do,” Alice took an over-confident sip of her cocktail, and Y/N tried her best to hold back her laughter when Alice immediately coughed at the taste of it. “Christ, Foxy, what is this, jungle juice?”

“Something adjacent to jungle juice, yes,” Hoseok chuckled, reaching out to take the gift bag Alice was still carrying, placing it on the coffee bar where several bags from other guests were– birthday gifts for Taehyung.

“Tastes like you made it in the goddamn sink,” Alice muttered, all while taking another sip.

Snorting, Y/N was about to mention that Hoseok originally wanted to make it in the sink, but she heard her name being called, so she hastily excused herself, searching for the source of the voice amongst the crowded kitchen.

“Honey! In here,” Y/N discovered that it was her mother calling her from the dining room, frantically motioning for her to join her, Y/N hoping she wasn’t about to tell her she had some kind of disturbing vision again.

“What’s going on? There aren’t even any lights on in here, why are you lurking in the dark like this?” Y/N asked, growing more suspicious by the second.

“I wanted to ask you if you finished working on Taehyung’s gift,” her mother, though originally a little wary of Taehyung after her vision about him many months ago, had warmed up to him by then. She had the feeling it was due to how sweet and affectionate Taehyung was around Y/N, and the fact that Y/N was so completely comfortable with him.

“Of course I did. I worked on it whenever he was at the rec center! It’s all set up for later,” Y/N replied, a little ticked that she was pulled away from the party just to get interrogated about her work ethic.

“Good, good. He looks happy! Not as shy as he once was,” her mother commented blithely, making Y/N hum.

“I think the club had something to do with that,” Y/N started to drag her mother back into the kitchen, eager to get back to her friends and make sure there weren’t any shenanigans going on. “Did you see the portraits he took of us hung up on the stairwell?”

Y/N was able to deliver her mother to Ben, who was more than willing to keep her occupied by telling her about Daisy’s newfound interest in painting, and Y/N breathed a sigh of relief when she was able to find her hideous-tasting cocktail waiting for her on the island. She was mid-bite of a particularly juicy chocolate covered strawberry when she spotted Taehyung, who was by the fridge, chatting with Yoongi. Both of them were dressed in clothes she had gotten the two of them for Christmas, and it made her very happy that Taehyung had allowed himself to get closer to Yoongi, especially in recent weeks.

Downing the rest of her drink, she rounded the island as best she could, giving Jeongguk a playful flick on the back of his head as she passed by him, an unlit cigarette between his lips as he was heading towards the slider to the backyard. He rolled his eyes, patting the top of her head condescendingly before he vanished, Y/N approaching Taehyung and Yoongi.

“Hi, having fun?” Y/N greeted them, Taehyung nodded, leaning against the fridge with a content look. “Good idea for having a bunch of charcuterie boards, Tae.”

“You got a little,” Tae motioned around his mouth area like she had something on her face, but before she could use her cocktail napkin to wipe her face sheepishly, Yoongi set down his glass of wine.

Tongue peeking out to dampen his thumb, he got rid of smudge of chocolate on the corner of her mouth, popping the digit into his mouth without so much as a second thought, Y/N staring at him like he lost his fucking mind.

“Got it,” Yoongi picked his wine glass back up, licking his lips with a devilish grin, Taehyung simply watching the scene unfold in front of him with boredom.

“Whoa, my grandma used to do that to me during Sunday dinners,” Ben interrupted, Taehyung stepping aside so her friend could access the freezer for more ice. “Hey, Yoongi. I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

Y/N froze, jumping to the conclusion that Ben would confront the leopard hybrid after the brunch she had with him a couple of weeks ago, though that was hardly within his nature. Though protective of her, Ben wasn’t one to throw her under the bus, and Y/N had to quickly compose herself so none of her hybrids would catch the scent of alarm on her. Yoongi, unperturbed, regarded Ben with a lazy flicker of one of his spotted ears.

“Go ahead,” Yoongi enunciated slowly, the only indication that he was as wary as Y/N.

“You can say no, of course, but Y/N mentioned that you were teaching her how to play piano. I was wondering, if you had time during the week, if you could stop by and give Daisy some lessons? We’ll pay you for your time, naturally,” Ben proposed, Y/N nearly fainting with relief.

“Oh, uh… yeah, I’d have time for that. I’m only at the rec center three times a week in the evenings. Do Monday afternoons work?” Yoongi’s eyebrows shot into his hairline, apparently taken aback.

“Works for us! Here, come with me, we gotta tell Roy. He’s been wanting to sign her up for lessons for weeks, he has a bunch of questions…” Ben held his hand out, beckoning for Yoongi to follow him into the parlor where his fiance was entertaining Daisy with Jimin.

Y/N saw that as an opportunity to steal Taehyung away from the party, grabbing his hand lightly. He didn’t protest, or even ask why she was leading him towards the staircase, but he clung to her side as if he could sense her growing anticipation.

“Where are we going?” Taehyung finally asked curiously, taking steps two at a time to keep up with Y/N’s jog upstairs.

“I wanna show you your gift!” Y/N breathed with effort after scaling the staircase, leading the Kodiak hybrid down the hall to what was once a large, unused walk-in closet of sorts, perhaps for linens back in the home’s heyday. Y/N used an old key she had stashed in her pocket to unlock the old door, feeling Taehyung looming behind her and breathing down her neck.

Y/N fumbled for the lightswitch, stepping to the side and making a “ta-da!” gesture, Taehyung peering into the closet with rapt interest.

Y/N had totally renovated the closet into a darkroom for Taehyung to develop photos in the home when he couldn’t access the rec center. She had begun doing a little research a months ago about how to DIY the room, and she thought it came out pretty successfully; two counters on either side of the closet– a “wet” and “dry” section of the room, fresh coat of dark paint on the walls, second-hand equipment she found on the internet, and the entire space lit with special low-light red bulbs.

“What do you think! Pretty cool, right?” Y/N gushed, waltzing into the small room and pointing at the clothesline she had fastened to the walls so the Kodiak hybrid could hang his prints up to dry. “It’s like a home office for you, only a couple of doors down from your bedroom!”

“Y/N, you did this yourself?” Taehyung’s face had totally dissolved into shock, taking a shaky step into the dark room with large, rounded eyes. “It looks like the one in the rec center…”

“I had to do some research, but it was a blast to set up. Even if it was a challenge to work on it and keep it a secret from you, locking it up at night, hiding cans of paint… but I hope you like it!”

Taehyung looked around with glee, fingertips brushing over the newly installed countertops, Y/N perching herself on the chair she placed in the corner, admiring how diligently he checked everything out. The sleeves of his vintage sweater had slipped over his wrists again, Taehyung hastily pushing them up over his elbows so he could pick up one of the old cameras Y/N had dug out of the basement to give him.

“You… Really like to go above and beyond, huh?” Taehyung surprised Y/N by making a teasing remark, spinning on his heel and taking a picture of her with the old camera. “Of course I like it, why wouldn’t I?”

“So you’re teasing me now, too? Taking tips from Yoongi?” Y/N scoffed in disbelief, though something told her Taehyung didn’t quite know how to react to the situation.

Taehyung chuckled, shaking his head, before he stalked up to Y/N on the chair and used his hands to haul her to her feet by hooking them under her armpits, crushing her in, well, a bear hug. Y/N went limp in his arms, unable to breathe but in bliss with the way he was holding her tightly, sandalwood fragrance intoxicating her.

“Happy birthday, Tae,” Y/N murmured into his sweater, his arms tightening around her waist even more with her words.

“We should probably go back downstairs…” Taehyung pulled away from her, the red lighting of the room bringing out his eye color more than ever before. “I think people are looking for you.”

“Curse of being the hostess,” Y/N sighed, linking her arm with his. “It’s time for cake, anyways!”

Taehyung hummed, snuggling close into her side as they began to return to their guests and the other hybrids, though as they got to the bottom step into the foyer, Taehyung bent down to whisper in Y/N’s ear.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Anything for you.”

“You’re so busy these days! I miss you…” Y/N hung onto the hem of Yoongi’s thermal like a child, waiting for him to shut the soundproof doors of the music room and unable to keep the whine out of her voice.

“You’re busy, too, sweetheart. Didn’t you say there’s something coming up for you at work in the next few weeks?” Yoongi shook off her grip on his clothing, pointing at the loveseat so they could catch up.

It had been a week since Taehyung’s birthday, the first Friday of January, and Y/N couldn’t remember the last time she had a piano lesson with Yoongi due to their conflicting schedules.

“Yeah, I still have to think about it. Judy has this opportunity coming up, but it wouldn’t involve just me,” Y/N collapsed onto the loveseat, making grabby hands for Yoongi to sit beside her.

“So tell me. You don’t want to do it?” Yoongi put his arm around her, his eyes a little sleepy from his hectic week of basketball practices and traveling back and forth to Ben’s to teach Daisy. Y/N sighed, launching into a recount of her meeting with Judy the day before.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking about asking you about something for a while, do you have a moment before you head home?” Judy announced vaguely, as Y/N was closing the blinds to the storefront at the end of her shift.

“Of course,” Y/N adjusted the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder, Judy looking incredibly pleased with that answer.

“I’m sure you’ve noticed since you started working here, people will come in every once and a while asking for help in the area of paranormal activity in their homes or places of business,” Judy began, brushing sandy curls out of her face. “I used to be able to travel to these locations and do consultations and cleansings, but not so much anymore with the growing popularity of my readings here at the shop.”

“Right,” Y/N nodded, already knowing where the conversation was heading.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Would you be interested in taking up that responsibility? The pay would be higher, and you successfully cleansed your own home,” Judy clasped her hands in front of her, looking ever-so-hopeful.

“I… The opportunity sounds interesting, and I’d like to say that I could commit to it, but with my hybrids at home…” Y/N already felt bad enough she had to be away from them three times a week, so the additional hours and traveling filled her with hesitance.

“I thought of something to remedy that. You mentioned to me that you performed banishments and cleansings at your home with the help of two of your hybrids. I was thinking between the three of you, you could have somewhat of a ‘team’ that would do the consultations.”

“You mean Namjoon and Jeongguk?” Y/N blinked, taken aback.

“Yes, the two gentlemen I met a little after Lammas,” Judy confirmed, referring to the time she had brought the hybrids to the strip mall for ice cream in August. “They’d make perfect additions. The wolf hybrid, you told me, has a wealth of knowledge for the paranormal, and your elk hybrid is experienced with exorcism.”

“I– I’d have to ask them about it,” Y/N replied weakly, knowing that Namjoon would likely pounce on the opportunity, but talking to Jeongguk could go either way. Considering Jeongguk wasn’t a part of any clubs, and Namjoon only left the house on Mondays for the book club, it would give both of them the chance to get out more. “Can I get back to you?”

“Absolutely. I should tell you, as well, you’d have total control over how the team would operate, so you’d have quite a bit of freedom. I think you’d end up preferring it over sitting in a nearly empty shop most days.”

Y/N was shoving Yoongi by his shoulder as he belly laughed at her, his eyes scrunched up into slits.

“Fuck you, Yoongi, stop laughing! What’s funny?” Y/N crossed her arms across her chest, waiting for him to stop gasping for breath with a frown.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Yoongi wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, collecting her shoulders and settling her back into his side with a kiss to her temple. “So, let me get this right. Your boss wants you to formulate a ghostbusting team with those two edgelords hotboxing that ancient van in our driveway right now?”

“It sounds fucking stupid when you say it like that, but yeah, that’s the gist of it,” Y/N snapped, though melting into Yoongi’s hold anyways. “I’ve got to talk to them over the weekend. I know Namjoon would be on board, but Jeongguk…”

Absently, Y/N’s fingertips began toying with the choker around her neck she hadn’t taken off since Namjoon fastened it there, chewing her lip.

“I think you should do it. You got rid of whatever was on this property, remember? And you won’t have to sit behind a counter and send us memes all day out of boredom,” Yoongi squeezed her side, sobering up enough to take her seriously.

“Okay, I’ll talk to them,” Y/N agreed, feeling better that she had Yoongi’s approval. “Um, when do you think we should…”

Yoongi knew where she was going without her having to finish her sentence. When do you think we should tell the others that we’re together?

“It needs to be up to you, sweetheart. I can handle it if they’re pissed at me, but how they’ll react to you after they find out is what concerns me,” Yoongi ran a hand through his hair, Y/N considering that. “We need to be delicate about it, I think.”

Yoongi was tip-toeing around the fact that Y/N still had to confess her feelings to the six others, which had her gritting her teeth.

“I’ll work something out. Jesus, I feel like I’m planning a press conference,” Y/N tipped her head against the back of the couch, heaving a sigh through her nose. “I just want to be able to kiss you whenever I want.”

“Is that right?” Yoongi’s tone turned playful, dropping an octave or two. “In front of everyone?”

Feeling the mood shift, Y/N forgot all about the piano lesson she was supposed to be in the middle of, something heating up in her stomach as Yoongi smirked, looking down his nose at her.

“You know what I mean,” Y/N whispered, electrified.

“I do?” Yoongi’s expression turned thoughtful, his ears fluttering as Y/N curled her legs sideways on the couch so she could face him. “You think I want that, too?”

“Whatever, guess not,” Y/N attempted to look away, a tad embarrassed. She was stopped, however, by a gentle grip on her chin.

“You want me to kiss you in front of everyone, show them what you mean to me?”

Y/N was silent, throat parched as she read the primal possession in his feline eyes. Swallowing as best she could to lubricate her esophagus, all she could hear was a gentle ticking coming from a clock sitting beside the new record player she had gotten Taehyung for Christmas.

“Hmm… I don’t know if you really want that,” Yoongi continued, sounding almost bored, unaffected.

“Yoongi.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Shut up and kiss me,” Y/N growled, bracing her hands on his shoulders and leveling him with an annoyed glare.

Yoongi stared her down, still appearing unmoved, before he took her by surprise and surged forward urgently, the grip on her chin moving to the back of her neck, yanking her into his lips, the leopard hybrid’s mouth muffling the cry she let out.

Unlike the kiss she stole from him the day before Christmas Eve, this one was full of fire and ice, Yoongi working his mouth so intensely against her own, Y/N imagined cartoon stars floating around her head like a halo. Still a little put off by his teasing earlier, she kissed him back just as eagerly, boldly nibbling his bottom lip eliciting a feral hiss from his chest. The expulsion of air opened his mouth enough for Y/N to swipe her tongue across the flesh she had just bitten, one of her hands cupping Yoongi’s jaw to keep him in place.

Yoongi, in retaliation, tilted his head sideways, Y/N’s mouth parting because of it, his tongue sweeping into her mouth promptly in an attempt to regain control. Y/N, at that moment, didn’t want to relinquish it quite yet. Eyes still shut, she increased the strength at which she was clutching the side of his face, using her core to swing one knee over Yoongi’s lap, settling down on his thighs and resting her free hand over his purring chest.

All too soon, however, she needed air, breaking free from the lip lock with a thin string of saliva still connecting them, Y/N’s chest heaving as she dove in for more– this time going straight for Yoongi’s neck. The leopard hybrid grunted, his hands sliding down her body to settle heavily on her hips, the sensation of her hot mouth on the sensitive skin of his neck overwhelming. Y/N kissed below his earlobe, unable to get enough, loving the quiet sounds coming from Yoongi’s swollen lips, trailing her kisses to his clavicle, skimming the chain that was around his neck.

“Baby,” Yoongi’s strained voice came out as a feathery breath, like he was trying to control himself, and Y/N returned to his mouth, moaning softly at the way his scorching fingertips wormed their way under her tee-shirt, skimming the skin of her lower back.

“Mm?” Y/N hummed against his mouth, getting dizzy from the way his tongue slid against hers sensually. She never wanted the moment to end, no matter how much she was sweating– and how strong the spark of arousal was between her legs.

Adjusting her position on his lap, Yoongi went quite still when she settled more weight on top of him, one of her own hands sneaking up the front of his shirt to settle over his pounding heart indulgently. Pulling away with a warning nip to the corner of her jaw, the sharpness of his canines against her flaming skin having her gasping, Yoongi sat back with a regretful look on his face, holding onto her hips to keep her somewhat hovering over his lap.

“Love, we can’t… not until we tell everyone else. There’s no excuse that could cover up… the scent,” Yoongi managed, eyes softening at Y/N’s desperate pout.

“Scent?” Y/N leaned forward despite the warning, pecking his lower lip indulgently

Yoongi glanced down at their laps expectantly, Y/N getting what he was implying like a freight train hit her.

“Oh god. That’s embarrassing,” Y/N panicked, starting to move off of his lap, when he caught her with a grunt, keeping her seated on top of her.

“Embarrassing? It’s natural. Come on, silly girl,” Yoongi growled, tucking hair behind her ears tenderly all the while. “Still. Wait just a little longer for me, okay?”

Y/N relented, the fire slowly leaching from her veins as she nestled her head into Yoongi’s chest, hiding her moping.

“You waited for me all this time. I’ll wait for you.”

“Cheesy,” Yoongi snickered, soothingly passing her hands up and down her back. “Why don’t we get started with the lesson? Have you been practicing?”

“Let me hold you for a bit more,” Y/N whined, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of his neck.

Yoongi snorted, planting a kiss on the top of her head, but indulging her anyway. He always was a pushover, when it came to her.

Y/N was sitting in her car, half-frozen while she waited for it to heat up, staring at the phone in her hand.

Sarah Good: Hi, Y/N! Thank you for reaching out over email about getting Hannah and Seokjin together before we move. How’s lunch at Salem’s on January 11th?

Resisting the urge to honk for Seokjin to get a move on within the house, she swallowed down nerves and adjusted her sweater dress twitchily. She had told Seokjin about the planned lunch weeks ago, and watched how excited he became as the days rolled on, and it was finally time to meet up with Sarah and Hannah. Y/N was about to send a text to Seokjin to get him to come outside when she spotted him hurrying down the icy driveway, wrapped up in a giant lavender puffer jacket.

“Cold,” Seokjin whimpered as he climbed into the passenger seat, but retaining his merry expression. “Oh! You’re wearing the jacket!”

Indeed, Y/N had the baby pink sherpa jacket he and Hoseok had given to her for Christmas. It had become her favorite coat simply because they had gifted her, but also because seeing the delight on both of their faces when she wore it was absolutely priceless.

“Matches my dress, see?” Y/N lifted the skirt of her pink sweater dress playfully, Seokjin definitely making sure she was wearing the skin-toned thick tights underneath it. “Don’t worry, I’m warm enough!”

Y/N threw her car into gear as soon as Seokjin was buckled in, his hand immediately seeking out hers, squeezing it eagerly.

“So, are you excited to see her?” Y/N asked nonchalantly, after several minutes of listening to Seokjin hum along to the radio.

“I am. I hope she’s recovered from her injuries…” Seokjin admitted, his mouth screwing up in concern.

“I’ve been in touch with Sarah, she said that Hannah is doing wonderfully, all healed up! Sarah said there’s a great gymnastics team for hybrids in the area of New York she’s moving to that Hannah is interested in joining,” Y/N brushed her thumb over the back of Seokjin’s hand, something that he typically did whenever he thought she was stressed or nervous.

“She’ll love that,” Seokjin replied tenderly, his legs bouncing up and down in anticipation. Y/N, despite herself, smiled empathetically, Seokjin’s concern for others rubbing off on her infectiously.

Minutes later, they arrived at the brewery, Y/N trying to park as close to the building as she could out of Seokjin’s disdain for the frigid January temperature.

“I don’t think they’re here yet, we’re a little early,” Y/N cleared her throat, finally able to get a good look at the jaguar hybrid beside her. He looked breathtaking, as he normally did, the pastel purple of his coat complimenting his sunset eyes, wavy hair parted off of his forehead, and smelling fresh and clean. “We can wait in here or go get a table? What do you think, honey?”

Seokjin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Y/N’s ringtone, which she answered quickly without checking the caller ID.

“Y/N? It’s Sarah! We just got here, parked towards the back,” a raspy, friendly female voice came in from the receiver, Y/N blinking rapidly as she observed Seokjin flinging his door open, promptly jumping out of the Land Cruiser.

“O-oh, we’re here too! We’ll meet you at the door!” Y/N rushed out, hanging up before she could lose track of Seokjin, who was a blur of pastel and puffer jacket dashing across the parking lot.

Y/N hardly had the time to lock the car before chasing after the jaguar hybrid, avoiding the black ice as best she could in the midst of her scrambling.

“Jinnie!” A melodic, high and sweet voice exclaimed, chock-full of thick feeling, called across the parking lot, Y/N nearly tripping over her own boots at the sound of it.

Pausing, Y/N watched the scene in front of her unfold like it was a movie she was watching in a theater, Seokjin screeching to a halt, arms wide as a slight figure darted into view. It was a young woman, around Seokjin’s age, with glimmering strawberry-blonde hair and peachy cat ears with a matching tail, who without any prompting, launched herself into Seokjin’s arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as she shook with emotion.

Seokjin caught her with graceful ease, though his knees buckled nervously as well, his hand coming up to cradle the back of her head softly. Even from a considerable distance away from him, Y/N could spot the tear running down Seokjin’s cheek, a stabbing pain striking though her chest. Ears ringing, Y/N stared at the two embracing, biting the inside of her cheek painfully when she heard Seokjin’s throaty response.

“Hannah, I missed you.”

Taglist; @blancflms @grazysf @sbromp @jaxavance @sunderlight @ot7nem @mageprincess7 @wittyreader @drenix004 @mayla548 @skyys-universe @ddaeng-angmoh @trtlthts @exfolitae @kalala22 @xiusmarshmallow @bangtans-momma @zae007live @paigetj @singukieee @lilacdreams-00 @dreamerwasfound @ninjacups @osakis-gf @itwillbealways-d @xthefuckerysquaredx @momowantscats @molshole @gooooomz @uarmyhore @lopprhe @oopscoop @xicanacorpse @i-like-anime13 @hemziii @demarie04 @im-sinking-in-mud @talkyoongitome @bangtxnbxunch @primrose2507 @kihyunniesmonbebe @7evensin @lilmxchis @00ihatesnaku @neverthefirstchoice @missyoueverysingleday @cathy-1997

Please do not repost or translate my work. Thank you!

#bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts ot7 x reader #hybrid au #bts ot7 x y/n #bts hybrid au #bts fic #bts au #bts hybrid x reader #bts hybrid fanfic #namjoon fanfic #seokjin fanfic #yoongi fanfic #hoseok fanfic #jimin fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook fanfic

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nebbyy · 7 months ago

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hello could you do headcanons smut of baldwin and his chubby wife

King Baldwin x reader - Nsfw headcanons

A/N: Wow these is the first explicit stuff I write for Baldwin!! Thank you so much for this prompt, thinking of a chubby medieval woman makes me think of all the portraits of beautiful women with the most harmonious curves I've ever seen😩😩

As always painting name is Romeo and Juliet by Frank Bernard Dicksee for my art enthusiasts :))

Warning: SMUT, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!

Unlike modern times, a fuller body has always been sign of beauty and fertility through western history

Although during medieval times anything related to attractiveness and sensuality was deemed as "bad", that still meant that a chubby woman would've been judged not for being against the beauty standard, but to be actually too tempting for the public!

So it comes without saying that young king Baldwin thought he might pass out the first time he saw you, knowing you were his betrothed

You'd awakened something in him, this burning desire to have you, to know how your soft curves would feel in his hands, how your silky skin would brush against his own

I see him having a long series of consecutive days where he woke up drenched in sweat, body slightly trembling as he'd come out of yet another wet dream about you, lying beneath him as he had his sweet way with you

He felt himself getting more and more impatient for the wedding night day to come, to finally be able to call you his

He'd also be quite insecure at first, and scared too. What if the sight of his body repulsed you? What if you wouldn't want to go near him to avoid the risk of getting the disease as well?

He wouldn't blame you for it, it'd be the wiser decision for the both of you

But still, he prays and hopes and dreams that you'd return the attraction he felt from you from the very start. He longs for the feeling of your touch against his numb body

He's a bundle of nerves during the whole ceremony, but he's good at hiding it (well the veil covering his head is); he seems to all calm down only once you're both sitting next to each other at the banquet, and you tentatively lay your soft hand over his laying on the table, shy touches blessing his skin

That night your marriage is consumed in no time, he's basically as gentle as humanly possible while he holds you in his arms, as he's slowly penetrating you

There was no really developed knowledge of foreplay or female anatomy in the middle ages, but it just felt natural for Baldwin to keep his focus on your every reactions while the two of you are making love

He doesn't know what he's doing, and neither do you considering that at that time you probably haven't even seen a naked man other than Baldwin himself, but that doesn't stop the two of you from exploring each other, taking your time to get to know what you like, what makes your eyes roll back and your back arch

I'm not sure if he'd be down for oral, I kind of see him as being a bit self conscious of the level of decay his mouth and face has reached, and I'm not too sure his cum would actually taste good with leprosy and all

Nevertheless, his fingers and cock are more than enough to bring you more pleasure than you could ever imagine

Don't expect any public stuff, Baldwin is still an extremely religious man whose values are not to be messed with: these things are meant for the privacy of your quarters alone, there's no need for him to bring this sacred thing you two have out where all eyes could possibly see

He'd probably be more on the vanilla side, being mostly against anything related to giving pain (he'd be indifferent to receiving it since his body is mainly numb, but he wouldn't enjoy it either)

Although he would probably enjoy being the more dominant one in the bedroom, the power dynamic would still remain on a pretty balanced level: you're still his beloved wife, his only equal in his eyes. That's why I could confidently say that Baldwin is the perfect example of soft dom

His favorite position would probably be missionary, just so that he could be able to see your pretty face while he pounds into you

Also because he could get to hold your plush thighs and see the delightful rolls that form on your belly

Your body screams femininity and fertility to him, an alluring combination that gets him going for as much time as you two have

His numbness also grants him a reduced sensibility, so he can afford to go more rounds at a time without having too many problems from it

But as the years pass, his mobility becomes more restricted by his declining health, and along with his agility and stamina in battle his sickness gets the best of him even in the bedroom

And through it all, his burning desire for you was what got him going, what made him spare just a little more energies to later spend with you

The two of you would have to adapt, though, probably changing positions and frequency at which you guys have sex

You might start trying to be the one on top, and he'd guide your every movement while also trying not to lose his mind over just how perfect you look riding him, your every curve bouncing as you move up and down over his cock

He dreams of giving you a baby in those moments, filling you up to the brim, seeing your body get even fuller with your conjoint love. It really saddens him to think that it might never happen

But hope is the last one to die, and he gets his hopes up every time that he comes into your welcoming body, emptying his seed into you, hoping that one day this union will give life to a creature as beautiful as its mother

#kingdom of heaven #king baldwin x reader #f!reader #headcanons #the leper king #king baldwin iv #king baldwin x you #anon request #smut #ask me anything

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thaleleah · 4 months ago

Text

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓼 (𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓽 𝓣𝔀𝓸)

Pairing: Billy The Kid x Fem!Nun!Reader

Warnings: ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Dark!Billy, Virgin!Reader, Oral (female receiving), Fingering, P in V, Corruption Kink, Creampie, Possessive Behavior, Masturbation, Wet Dreams/Sex Dreams, Seduction, Emotional Manipulation, Religion and Religious Beliefs, Explicit talk of gunshot wounds, blood, and the bullet's removal, Mention of physical abuse/child abuse (not from Billy), Childhood Trauma, Mention of alcoholism, Moral/Religious conflict within one's self, My bad Spanish, Nun breaking her vows, Probably too quick of a healing process to be fucking someone but I'm not a doctor so 🤷🏻‍♀️, Using the word "drawers" instead of "panties" which is kinda cringe to me but I wanted to be somewhat accurate

Word Count: 9.5K

A/N: So sorry this took so long! 🥺 But I hope you guys like it and I'm hopeful that the next part won't take nearly as long to get out.

Summary: When Billy stumbles into your clinic, hurt and in desperate need of care and refuge, you don't hesitate to help him. Perhaps this is God's will. Perhaps He has brought him into your life to help heal the parts of him that the cruelness of the world has soiled and broken. You are a healer by trade, both of the physical body and of faith. If this is to be God's mission for you, then it shall be done. How could you have possibly known that the young man who begged for help that fateful night would turn out to be the devil himself?

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The ride to Joe’s cabin only takes a few hours, and the sun is high in the sky by the time Sam helps you down from your seat. You hastily make your way to the front door, opening the latch and pushing it open, keeping it propped with a heavy rock laid by the door while Sam opens the back of the wagon. The journey inside is a bit more difficult this time. Billy gasps in pain when you stumble on the front stairs, tripping over your tunic and jerking his body down accidentally as a result. He’s breathing harshly when you and Sam are able to lay him down on your brother’s bed and you once again find yourself whispering apology after apology as you lift his shirt and the bandage to check on his wound.

Thankfully, there’s no tears or rips. You were only able to bring a little bit of the suture material and enough extra bandages in your bag to get you by. The clinic has limited materials as it is, so you only packed what you thought the clinic could spare. It’s enough to completely redo his stitches if necessary, but you’re hoping it won’t ever come to that.

Billy’s safe here now, he will not be leaving the bed until he’s well enough to start moving around on his own.

His hand comes down to rest on top of your own, pushing your hand down and forcing you to recover the stitches with the bandage as his fingers curl around your palm.

“Hey,” He says softly, calling your eyes to his tired ones. “I'm okay.”

His hand is gentle on yours, thumb lazily sweeping back and forth across the back of it. You pull it away, smoothing your tunic down again just for something else to do with your hands.

You didn’t even notice when Sam left the room, too preoccupied with checking on Billy’s wound, but your head turns at the sound of his boots on the steps of the porch. He steps back into the cabin, a crate held in his hands filled with food and other supplies and you let out a grateful sigh at the sight of it.

“Thank you, Sam,” You say, watching as he deposits the crate just on the side of the doorway. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping us. You’re a good man,”

Sam smiles shyly at your words of praise, and out of the corner of your eye you notice how Billy’s head snaps towards him.

“Of course, Sister y/n. Anything for you and the other Sisters,”

“Are you sure this is alright? You don’t need it for your delivery?”

“No,” He says with a shake of his head. “I packed it for you to have,”

You cup Sam’s cheek in thanks and shoot another glance towards Billy just to make sure he’s okay. His face is turned to the side again, pressing against the pillow for comfort, but you can see how his eyes are still on you, following your every move as you follow Sam out of the cabin.

Poor Billy, he must still be so nervous. So on edge about being hunted like he's nothing more than a rabid animal needing to be put down. Hopefully now that he's safe and out of harm's way, he can find some peace.

You walk Sam out, watching as he checks the horses and settles himself on the seat.

“I’ll come back in two weeks,” He promises. “That should be enough time for the search for him to wind down. Can't let people get suspicious. I have another delivery to do 'round then. I'll bring you some extra food and supplies.”

You wave as he nudges the wagon into motion and wait until he’s completely out of view over the hill before heading back inside and closing the door behind you.

Billy’s still watching you as you move about the main living area. Your brother’s bed has a direct line of eyesight into the front area, so Billy doesn’t even have to move to be able to watch you as you settle your bag and extra blankets onto the floor. You’ve told Joe before about how dangerous you think it is to have his bed in clear sight of the entrance, but he’s told you many times that he doesn’t like being told what to do.

“Besides, you know what it was like,” You remember him telling you. “Sleeping soundly in that house was never an option. And that feeling never goes away. If someone ever tries to break in here and attack me, I’ll already be awake and ready with my gun pointed at them before they even make it through the front door.”

As much as it pained you to hear, you know the truth of it. You’ve gotten better, you think. Whereas when you were younger, you would wake from the slightest noise, terrified of what might come after it. But now you find you can sleep through the night with very little problems. It’s not perfect - some nights are harder than others, but you credit God and the wonderful family you’ve found at the convent. They gave you rest, taught you to give your fears to the Lord so that he may take the burden they bear from you. They gave you peace in the world when you had none, and for that you will be eternally grateful.

Joe has not been so lucky, choosing instead to lock himself away in solitude rather than give his grievances up for absolvement. You pray for him every day despite his reluctance, asking God for guidance on his behalf.

The entire cabin is almost bare, sparse furniture just enough to be convenient. Despite your prayers, you know the ghost of the past still hovers over your brother's shoulder and even still, you wonder how he can stand to call this place a home with how unloved it feels.

“How do you know Sam?” Billy asks, and the cabin is small enough that his voice carries from room to room.

“He and his father run one of the markets in town,” You reply. You make your way into the bedroom, pulling the now rumpled blankets from under Billy's body and adjusting them so they lay over him neatly. “They’re our suppliers.”

“You seem very close,” Billy says, absently running his fingers over the edge of the blanket.

“Oh, well, he’s a dear friend,”

“You sure you can trust him?”

You nod, a small twinge offended at the implication of Sam being untrustworthy. After what he just risked to get you both here and Billy still doubts him? You stomp the feeling down just as quick as it flares. “Sam is incredibly loyal. He would never betray us,”

Billy’s mouth turns up in an unpleasant curl. “I think he likes you,”

Your brow furrows in confusion. “I should hope so. Otherwise, he is a very good actor,”

He huffs a small laugh at your attempt at a joke, but it doesn’t really sound joyful. “Not like that,”

It takes a second for your brain to register his vague words, but when they do your mouth falls open in shock at the bold statement. “No. No, no. Certainly not. Not me anyway,”

Oops. Perhaps you’ve said too much.

Now it’s Billy’s brows that furrow and he stares at you, hard, as if trying to read your mind about what you’ve meant. They shoot up as it clicks for him, a smirk pulling at his lips at the realization. “Him and one of the other nuns?”

“No!” You gasp. “Absolutely not. Sam just– bless his heart. He… has romantic feelings for one of the Sisters.”

“She doesn’t feel the same?”

Not exactly. Sam and Sister Ann have a connection that anyone with eyes can’t deny. They help complete each other and help each other grow in ways that one can only hope to experience in this life. Sister Ann has even confided in you that, while she doesn’t regret joining the church, she can’t help but think that if she had met Sam sooner then she would have said her vows to him instead of straight to God.

“It’s not that simple,” You settle with. “She’s a woman of faith and she’s spoken for by the church. They can’t be together regardless of what she may feel. Sam understands.”

Billy hums, a low and displeased sound. “Hm. Poor Sam,”

You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, so you don’t. Billy’s still frowning, so you tell him he should rest some more while you go fix up some lunch for you both. You’re happy to find that the simple stew made from some deer meat your brother had stored before his current trip is enough to cut the sudden unexpected tension and return him to good spirits.

Things are calmer now that you’ve arrived at the cabin. There’s very little risk of unwanted visitors and your brother’s last letter puts him deep in Texas and considering venturing upwards, so you're confident that he won’t be coming home anytime soon.

You’ve heard stories about Billy the Kid. Your patients like to talk, surprisingly gossipy considering most should be too sick or too involved with their pain to speak. But they push through their uncomfortableness to tell you stories of the young outlaw whose face is on the Most Wanted posters in at least three separate counties.

“He’s a ruthless killer.”

“A no-good murderer.”

“A good person who’s just had back luck.”

“A kindly fellow. He helped scare off some kids who were robbin’ me!”

And as you talk to Billy more and more, you can’t help but agree with the last two opinions. Billy is a sweetheart - respectful and kind like any man should be towards any woman despite her role in society. He listens with rapt attention as you tell him stories of your travels as you clean and re-bandage his wound. He nods when you tell him about the difference between the Utah territory and the Montana territory, and laughs when you tell him about your very memorable trip to Mexico where you climbed off the wagon and didn’t even take one step before face planting in a pile of mud. His grin is almost blinding when you tell him about the day you and your brother reunited after two years apart.

“Your brother’s name is Joe?” He asks.

“Mhm,” You confirm, leaning back into the chair you’ve placed next to the bed.

“My brother’s name was Joe, too,”

“Oh,” You smile despite the twinge in your heart. The word ‘was’ is almost devastating to hear. “It’s a good name. A strong name.”

Billy nods and his voice is barely above a whisper as he responds, “Yeah, it is,” and you think you can physically see the light die in his eyes as he thinks about it, the look of happiness he had just a second ago completely snuffed out by past memories.

You don’t want to pry, it’s not your place. But then he glances at you with those big blue eyes of his and all you see is hurt. God has put you on this Earth to be a healer, and you think that turning away now would be doing both Him and the broken man in front of you a disservice.

“Was he older or younger?” You ask, softly. “Your brother,”

“Younger,” he responds, and your heart breaks more at the rueful smile he sends you. “He died. Consumption. My mother too.”

Oh. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Billy. I can only imagine how hard that must have been,”

He doesn’t say anything. He’s not even looking at you now, just staring off into the distance as if somewhere else.

You lean forward, placing a careful hand on his arm. “Tell me about them?”

This time, the smile is real.

You learn over the next few days that Billy’s faith is in even worse shape than you feared.

For most, the presence of God is never fully gone from their hearts. Most who you’ve talked to who are rocky with their faith feel abandoned, cast aside as if The Heavenly Father were to play favorites and they’ve somehow found themselves on the losing side of the ‘sibling’ competition. Others feel betrayed by Him - those who have suffered great loss or tragedy and can’t understand how someone who’s entire being is made up in the light of faith and love can allow such heartbreak and suffering to happen to His children.

You do your best to soothe their heavy hearts. You tell them that God works in mysterious ways and that each and every person has their own trials and lessons in life that they must learn and overcome.

“Everything happens for a reason,” You say. “The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. But He is always by our side, speaking to us. All we have to do is listen.”

Words are not as powerful as feelings or actions, but you’re always grateful whenever your words are able to help heal any of their woes, even if just a little bit.

Billy, however… you are horrified to see that his faith is gone completely.

He talks about how he came to New Mexico and all he’s seen on the way. His start in New York City and the promise of a better life in Kansas. The lies and tragedy they were met with there. The death of his father.

“I think my Pa knew there was no one up there lookin’ out for us even back then,” Billy says, and it takes everything you have in you to stay silent at the horrific statement. “That’s why he just… gave up.”

For all that you disagree with, you can understand why Billy feels the way he does. He truly has had no one in his corner - devastating hardship after devastating hardship throughout the entirety of his life and he’s had to fight tooth and nail, carving a place out in the world for himself by force, just to get a bit of peace that should have been readily given to him.

“Tell me, Sister. When you’re by yourself in the world, young and alone and starvin’, not a penny to your name and no work for you in the entire county, what else are you supposed to do?”

The tears welling in your eyes match the ones threatening to spring from his.

“Exactly what you did,” You whisper back.

A single tear escapes one red rimmed eye, running down the curve of his cheek. “Is that what your god does? Leave children to steal or starve and then let them be arrested and made into a criminal when they choose not to just roll over and die?”

The lump in your throat refuses to go down. “We can’t know what the Lord’s plan is for us. It’s a mystery meant for us to unravel,” Your words are true, but they feel bitter on your tongue. “No matter how hard it might be.”

Billy’s eyes soften at your words, thick lashes clumping together with unshed tears, and when he speaks again, his voice is full of emotion.

“You remind me of my Ma,”

He’s told you about his Ma. A kindly, religious minded woman whose devotion to God and her ‘rotten, cheatin’, stealin’ ass husband’ was her downfall.

“‘I won’t leave him’ she said.” Billy had huffed, hands squeezing into fists as they wrapped tightly around the blanket. “‘I said my vows before God and the Catholic church’. What am I supposed to say to that?”

You can see how it eats at him - still after all these years since his mother’s passing and the guilt of not being able to save her, to protect her from anything and everything trying to harm her, it gnaws away at his heart. You think she might have been his best friend.

“Yeah, you remind me of my Ma,” He repeats, voice soft and low, and you wonder if this is the voice that he used to use when talking to her. “She was optimistic too. A dreamer, always tryin’ to see the best in people when all they do is show you their worst.”

“She sounds like a lovely lady,” You say. It’s genuine - you think it would have been an honor to meet the woman that Billy called a mother had you ever gotten the chance.

The woman who was strong for her family when it felt like the entire world was crumbling down around them. The woman who pushed for progress and courage when they uprooted their entire lives in hopes of finding something better elsewhere and held it together for the sake of her children when their father passed. The woman who sacrificed staying in an unfaithful and unhappy marriage for the sake of her kids and loyalty to God’s will.

“The vows we make are meant to be for eternity, Billy,” You had told him. “They are not to be broken easily or without consequence. If they were, there would be no point in making them and they would lose their significance.”

Your own mother knew that too. Despite how much you wanted her to leave him when you were younger - run away just you, Mama, and Joe - she never did.

“My father wasn’t a very nice man either,” You say, eventually. “Like your stepdad. He was cruel. He would hit her, and Joe…” The me remains unspoken, but understood anyway.

Billy remains silent, but his eyes are on you, listening with full attention to whatever you’re about to tell him. The idea that maybe God has sent Billy into your life to help heal some unresolved part of you, too, isn’t lost on you.

“I know that we are all God’s children,” You say. “And I know that there is good in all people. But sometimes… I think the Devil’s hold is much too strong on some. Because I can’t remember even one ounce of goodness in my father.”

“Is your mother still with him?”

“No. She’s dead.”

The days go by with an unexpected ease that you're grateful for.

You talk, and talk, and talk - and honestly, that's about as much as you can do. Your brother has nothing. No forms of entertainment and no distractions that wouldn't be considered laborious and harmful for Billy's recovery.

You like to talk though. Like to get to know people and have other's get to know you in return. Each person is unique - an extension of God and an example of His love for us personified.

It's even better when the energetic connection is instant, two souls recognizing each other and relating to each other in a way that you think all of God's children should be able to. Talking with Billy is easy, and despite the differences in religious views, you find that conversation between the both of you flows like water. And when that water sometimes finds itself hitting the shore of land, you find that Sam has come through for you once again.

Sam, bless his soul, has had the forethought to pack a chess board and a pack of playing cards in his care package, and you find that they become quite handy when the rare silence between conversations becomes too stretched.

Despite the initial stress and your reasoning for being here, it's nice.

Five days into the stay at your brother’s place finds you relieved to see that Billy’s wound is still making progress with its healing. You were a little concerned that the threat of being caught and the additional stress on the stitches from the abrupt movements of being transferred to the cabin could have brought about an infection, but the area around the injury still looks clean.

You make sure to send up a quick prayer of thanks for the Good Lord’s grace.

While Billy’s wound is healing nicely, your back, on the other hand, is in significant pain.

Joe’s place is built for one, so the single bed in the only bedroom is more than enough to house him when he’s home. For two, however - it’s a little problematic.

Billy gets the bed, that’s a given. He’s injured, and people need to be comfortable with lots of rest so that they can heal properly. You’re no stranger to uncomfortable sleeping spaces anyway. You’ve spent more than your share of nights on the floor of dusty inns during your travels and, to be completely honest, it's not like the beds at the convent were much better. It’s moments like this where it reminds you of how many things humans take for granted in their day-to-day lives. Sometimes it takes losing something for someone to appreciate it.

Despite the uncomfortableness, sleeping on the floor has never really bothered you much. It’s been a few years since you’ve had to do it though. Even on the round-the-clock shifts at the clinic there’s at least been a cot available to you, but here there’s only the hard wooden floor and the single blanket you’ve allowed yourself to claim.

And, perhaps you aren’t as young as you used to be, because the shooting pain in your back as you carefully roll to your side has you gasping.

Billy must hear the noise because you can hear the slight ruffle of bedding as he shifts, his voice calling out a concerned, “Sister, you alright?”

“Fine,” You call back through gritted teeth. Every movement feels like torture as you brace your hands on the floor to help push you up. You can do it, you tell yourself. You can do it. God willing… “Just- ah! Just trying to– get up.”

The rustling of the bedding sounds more deliberate now and you’re shouting from your place on the floor before you can think about what you’re doing. “Don’t you dare get out of that bed, William Bonney! Or so help me,”

The rustling stops, and you steel yourself to try to push up and off the floor. It feels like a miracle when you’re on your feet. Your garments are wrinkled and slightly dusted, but that’s to be expected out here. It’s the bare space on the floor that gives you pause. How are you meant to sleep on the floor again tonight with the way you feel right now? The thought seems almost unbearable. Perhaps Billy will spare one of his extra blankets - the slight extra cushion could be all you need.

At least that’s what you’re telling yourself.

A few steps takes you into the bedroom and your suspicions are confirmed when you see Billy sitting up in the bed, blankets pooling down at his waist as his arms prop himself up, his right leg is just swung over the edge of the bed at the knee in a perfect indication of his intention of getting up.

Ignoring the pain in your back, you walk forward, clicking your tongue in disapproval as you push him back down flat with a firm hand to his forehead. He goes back willingly, moving his leg back in place when you tap on his knee.

“You could have pulled your stitches trying to get up like that,” You reprimand.

“‘So help you’ what?” He responds.

“What?”

“You said ‘or so help me’. So, ‘or so help me’ what?” Billy says with a small playful smirk on his face.

“God,” You respond with a smile of your own. “So help me God. So that maybe He can send me some holy restraints to tie you to this bed to keep you from ripping your stitches and worsening your injury that I worked so hard on healing.”

Billy’s smirk widens. “Careful now, Sister. Some people like that kinda thing,”

You can feel the heat flood your face from his implication, eyes widening as your mouth parts in shock.

You don’t know how to respond - you’ve never been in this type of situation before. For men and all their faults, you’ve been lucky to find that most of them, even the criminals and frequent brothel visitors have mostly been respectful of your title. Inappropriate comments and jokes have rarely been said in your presence since becoming a nun, and on the rare occasion they have you’ve never been shocked since the offenders are always obvious the second they open their mouths.

But somehow it strikes you speechless to hear the sexual meaning coming from Billy’s lips.

“Oh, is that too much for the Angel’s ears?” He laughs. “M’sorry.”

You force a quiet laugh, working your lips into a small smile as you try to battle through the uncomfortableness. He’s just joking. He doesn’t mean anything by it. Men will be men for as sexually driven as they are, and some are just more outspoken about it than others. Billy’s been on his own since he was a young teen, running around with that band of outlaws who you’re sure are far worse than he is. You’ve had the displeasure of meeting Jesse Evans before. And you certainly weren’t shocked when the rude words fell from his mouth about how he imagined how good you would look without all that ‘modesty bullshit you have on’.

Billy isn’t Jesse though, so you just lightly smack his shoulder with the back of your hand as you let out a half teasing but mostly serious, “You watch your language around me, sir. I’m a lady,”

“Yes, ma’am,” He grins. “Yes, you are.”

You hum out a small sound of disapproval as you bend forward slightly to try and adjust the blankets that have twisted around his waist during his premature attempt to stand, but you're stopped when the sharp pain consequence of sleeping on the floor shoots up your spine. Billy starts at your loud gasp, hand darting out to grab your arm as if he could catch you if you suddenly dropped to the ground. Your hands press against your back in agony and they stay there as you slowly limp to the chair next to the bed.

Billy watches as you gingerly lower yourself into the seat. The pain doesn’t go away now that you’re sitting down, but at least you don’t have to move for a while. “What happened?”

“Sleeping on the floor hasn’t been very kind to me,” You respond through gritted teeth.

“You should sleep in the bed then,”

“No,” You say, shaking your head, appalled at the thought of kicking Billy out of the bed while he’s still healing. “You’re injured. You get the bed.”

The eyebrow raise you get in response tells you that you misunderstood his meaning. “I think we can both share the bed,”

“No,” You say, again. “No, no. It’s not proper.”

“Sister y/n–”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with harder things than just sleeping on the floor. A little back pain isn’t going to keep me down,”

Billy looks like he doesn’t believe you, but he keeps quiet on the matter anyway.

He distracts you instead by keeping you talking. He asks about why you decided to join the convent and take your vows. You tell him about your brother and how he couldn’t bear to be around your drunk of a father anymore, and how you harbored such anger at him for what felt like an eternity but was only actually a year and a half because you felt betrayed by him. Deserted and left to fend for yourself by your own brother. How you walked around your house praying to never be seen, acting like a ghost in your own home in hopes of keeping away any avoidable conflict. How your mother did her best to shelter you from it all, and you can tell by the way Billy’s brows furrow and his lips pinch together that he wants to say something harsh in response, but he stays silent. You can only imagine what he would say.

“Shelterin’ you would’ve been takin’ you far away from him, not forcin’ you to stay in a dangerous place just because she thinks it's what God wants. If that’s what God really wants, then maybe he’s the evil one, hm?”

You’re thankful he doesn’t actually say it. You’re not sure if you would have the right words to try to defend otherwise.

“Turning to God was the best thing I’ve ever done,” You say instead. “In Him I’ve found peace like I’ve never known before. I found a family and a purpose in life. That’s more than I could ever ask for.”

“That should be the bare minimum,”

Turns out it doesn’t matter what he decided to say because you don’t really have the right words to defend against that statement either.

“You deserve to have someone lookin’ out for you,” Billy says, and his stare is so earnest and intense that you can’t bare to look him in the eyes anymore.

“I’m… I’m going to go make breakfast,”

He watches you push yourself up from the chair, wincing as your back protests the movement, but doesn’t move to stop you.

You use the time you’re cooking to gather yourself. Prayers of apology fall from your lips to God as you beg for forgiveness at being caught unable to hear His wisdom during your conversation with Billy. Billy spoke his truth, no matter how wrong it was, and his words made you falter - unable to uphold Him and His grace in the face of judgment. This is your mission, your test.

And you’re failing.

Sister Catherine wouldn’t have hesitated. She would have known exactly how to respond to his disbelief. She has a level head on her shoulders, the words of God falling from her lips like water. Perhaps she would have been better suited to handle this task.

No. That’s the work of the devil - the fear and self-doubt you feel. Meant to slow you down and keep you from fulfilling your cause and spiritual duties.

Steeling yourself, you pile spoonfuls of the now thickened oatmeal into two bowls, topping them with a generous drizzle of honey before picking them up and taking a deep breath. You try your best to ignore the pain still throbbing in your back as you head back to the bedroom, pausing just outside the door and letting the heat front the bowls sink into your hands as you talk yourself up.

Have faith in His Holiness, y/n. He will guide you.

When Billy’s eyes catch on you as you walk through the doorway, his face is soft and friendly - none of the overwhelming intensity or barely contained anger that was there before.

“That smells great,” He says, taking the bowl from your outstretched hand. His bright blue eyes follow your movement as you sink slowly back into the chair next to the bed, resting your own bowl on your lap.

He smiles, clearly trying to calm your unease that you’re sure is still evident on your face and takes a large bite of oatmeal.

“Hmm,” He hums, closing his eyes briefly at the taste. “This is delicious. Best meal I’ve ever had. Cooked by an angel, I can tell.”

“Thank you,” You reply, and you can feel the involuntary pull of a smile on your lips at the praise.

He’s a good man, too. You can tell.

The floor isn’t any softer as night rolls around.

You try to sleep on your stomach, one arm propped underneath your head and the blanket balled on top of it so you have something soft to rest your cheek on. The other arm twists down at your side, a position that probably doesn’t seem very pleasant but that’s been your go-to comfort position since you were a young girl. It helps alleviate the tightness in your back for a little bit, but the ache is still there - laying in wait until you fall asleep and your body automatically rolls into the more reasonable position for floor sleeping.

You don’t sleep, or at least you don’t think you do. It doesn’t feel like you do. Your mini dozes just feel like blinks, those moments where you close your eyes, just for a second, before you’re opening them again in the next moment only to realize how much time has actually gone by. You’re not sure if it's minutes or hours, but more often than not you’re blinking only to find that you’re mid roll in adjusting positions and the pain in your back is too intense for your sleeping brain to handle. At one point, you manage to roll completely over before you wake up - the blink of closing your eyes while on your stomach, darkness encompassing the entirety of the main room, and then suddenly your eyes are opening again with the ceiling as your viewpoint, the beginnings of the sun shining in through the window, and the unbelievable agony ever present in your spine.

You’re so preoccupied with the pain that you almost don’t notice Billy standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His eyes are set on your tensed frame, dark brows furrowed in concern as he takes a cautious step towards you.

“Sister y/n,” He says, carefully.

“W-what are you doing o-out of bed?” You ask through gritted teeth. Oh gosh, this hurts so much. You feel like you can’t move, like your entire body is stiff as a board and one wrong move will snap the wood across the grain where it’s the weakest and break it in half. You can’t even bear the thought of rolling over to try to get up.

Billy ignores your question, crouching down beside you with one knee pressing into the floor for stability. His hand caresses the wound on his side, and even through your pain you don’t miss the slight wince he gives even as his eyes rake over you with worry.

“Are you okay?” He asks. The hand that was just pressed to his side comes to cup your cheek.

You’re not sure why you’re noticing how large his hand is right now in this moment as it presses against your skin, his long fingers curling to press gently into the fabric of your veil just behind your ear. You should be chastising him, scolding him for getting out of the bed and possibly injuring himself further. He winced, you saw it. He’s in pain. But all you can focus on right now is the comfort his warm hand brings with your nerves this fried and body this agonized.

“It hurts,” You whimper.

“I know, Angel. I know.” His voice is soft and soothing, the low tone caressing your eardrums.

The sight of his eyes watering cuts through the pain for a moment, and you wonder if that’s really truly what you’re seeing or if maybe it’s your own tear filled eyes playing tricks on you. Your hand reaches up, intent on caressing his own cheek and swiping your thumb under his eye to see if it's actually wet, but he catches your hand in his and brings the back of your hand to his lips.

“You’ve done so much for me already,” He murmurs, lips brushing against the back of your hand. “Let me help you now, okay?”

Billy’s arms fit themselves under your body, one arm creeping underneath your tensed back while the other loops beneath your knees. Your hand clutches desperately at his shirt, fisting the material in between your fingers, as he lifts you from the floor. Your agonized gasp mixes with his own grunt of pain as he stands up with you held securely in his arms and pressed against his chest.

“Your stitches,” You try to say, but he just shushes you.

“Shh. Don’t worry about me. M’fine,”

He carries you to the bed, carefully placing you down on the mattress. The softness of it under your back doesn’t do much to alleviate the pain, but the anxious part of you is hopeful that it will the longer you lay on it. But then Billy walks around the other side, the bed dipping down under his weight as he settles down on it, and you’re instantly filled with shame.

You shouldn’t be in bed with a man. Ever. You gave up that possibility when you took your vows, promising that it's only His spirit that would ever get to be around an area as intimate and personal as your bed.

“I can’t,” You say, trying in vain to push yourself up, but the sharp pain you receive for your efforts makes you freeze. “Ah! It’s not– not proper.”

“Y/n, please,” He says, hand coming down to press lightly on your shoulder to keep you down. “Just for today.”

You almost miss it - the absence of the title when he says your name. And that’s inappropriate too. Not only are you alone with a man, in the same bed together, but he’s dropped the earned title to show your life’s calling entirely. You want to reprimand him immediately. Jump out of the bed and wiggle your finger in his face just to make him understand how wrong this is.

But his eyes are filled with worry, silently begging you to just lay there for a while, just until you feel better and the words die in your throat.

He’s a good man. He doesn’t mean any harm by it. It was just a mistake, the title lost among the honest worry you can see reflected in his eyes.

“You can’t take care of me if you can’t even walk,”

Your eyes close, a resigned sigh escaping your lips as you reluctantly press deeper into the soft sheets. He’s right. You need to recover so you can continue to aid in his recovery. You can’t do your job if you're bedridden.

“Just for today,” You settle.

Just for today.

That was your intention anyway. Just stay in the bed, enjoying the small pleasure of the soft mattress against your back, and wait for the pain to dissipate enough for you to be able to resume your nightly rests on the floor in the main room. You didn’t even want to stay in the bed all day. It was a hopeful thought, that you would feel better in just an hour's time, maybe two or three at the most, and then you would feel better enough to be able to get up and return to your duties as normal. But you realize now that the honest hope for that was just willful ignorance on your part.

You work in a clinic and you’ve dealt with your fair share of back injury patients during your lifetime. You know it’s not something easily overcome or relieved in a matter of hours - sometimes even days or weeks.

God can perform miracles and you see the blessings He puts in your path each and every day. This, unfortunately, is not one of His miracles.

The hours blend together - one turning into two, and then two into four, until you can’t take the stillness anymore.

You force it a few times, pushing through the pain and slower than ever making it up and off the bed as you try to go about your day like normal. Being on the bed makes it so much easier to roll off than trying to push yourself up from the floor without the help of gravity. Your back protests as you roll off the edge, Billy echoing its protests with actual words instead of shocks of pain as he tries to urge you back down, but you grit your teeth and slap his hand away.

There’s a small amount of guilt creeping up from how hard you smack his hand, but it's still buried so deep under the agony and the overwhelming frustration of feeling useless that you can’t even stand to give it a second thought.

Billy watches you as you slowly make your way around the room. It’s not too bad to walk as long as you don’t bend or twist your upper body at all, but it's all becoming much too obvious now how much one takes their movements for granted until they’re face to face with their sudden inability to make even the slightest normal movement.

The empty bedpan sits on its own short stool in the corner of the room, next to the usual chamberpot. It’s been hours now since either of you have had to use them and even though you still feel fine enough to forego the chamberpot, which… thank the Lord because you’re honestly not sure how you’re meant to position yourself correctly in order to use the pot or even the outhouse for that matter in your current condition - you’re sure Billy is probably ready to use it.

“Do you need the bedpan?” You ask him, already reaching for it.

It's another moment of stupidity on your part when you go to reach for it and bend down with your back instead of using your knees. Another dagger of pain shoots up your spine and your hands fly around you to cradle the ache.

Billy shoots up as the sharp gasp leaves your lips, the bed rustling and creaking underneath him as he tries to push himself up. Your head jerks at the sounds and your shout is echoing through the small room before you can even think about it.

“Sit down!”

He freezes at your words, big blue eyes wide as he stares at you, the anger and frustration in your command no doubt audible in the way your yell scratches your own throat.

“Sorry,” You say, softly. “Billy, I’m sorry. Just…” Your eyes shift to where he’s pressing his hand against his side, directly over the wound and the guilt from earlier creeps back full force.

He’s already moved today. Already possibly hurt himself more by getting out of bed to check on you and then carrying your full weight to the bed.

You didn’t even check it afterwards.

“Just stay down,” You continue. “Don’t move.”

Reluctantly, he relaxes back on the bed, just sitting there and watching you when he should be flat down so as to not put extra strain on the wound. You want to tell him that - that he should be resting because he’s injured and injuries can’t heal if he’s just moving about however he pleases. You’ve said it before and he’s listened, but you have a feeling he wouldn’t hesitate to call out your hypocrisy this time.

“You sit down too,”

His words are soft, the timbre of his voice soothing and gentle but the words themselves are as demanding as they can be. Your eyes flick back up to his and you can see the unspoken threat in them.

If you keep pushing yourself, I will too.

“Billy, I can’t just sit around all day. I have things to do,”

“What things?”

“Things,” You press. “I have to– clean and make food. And care for you. That’s my job,”

“It’s clean, Sister,” He says, waving his arm around the mostly bare room. “There’s not much you can do. And we can wait for food, I’m not even hungry yet. What else are you tryin’ to do?”

Your eyes close and sigh, praying to God to give you patience because you know that your own stubbornness is as much a strength as it is a hindrance and you can quickly see that the same could be said for your young outlaw charge as well.

“Do you need to use the bedpan?” You repeat.

“No,” Billy says, and he sounds just as over the conversation as you feel. “M’fine.”

“Fine,”

He expects you to return to the bed, you can see in those eyes how he thinks it’s a battle he’s won. And perhaps he has, in a way. But you’re still in charge here and you’re not going to let him know that right away.

You turn on your heel, exiting the bedroom as swiftly as you can bear and Billy’s shout of protest races from the bed and follows you out in the main room.

“Sister y/n!”

“Hold your horses, Billy,” You call back, raising your hand up as if to wave him off. “I’m just grabbing something.”

Your bag is sitting next to your makeshift bed and you make sure to use your knees this time when you bend down to grab it. You can feel Billy’s gaze burning into your back as you rummage through it and even though there’s only so many supplies you were able to stuff into your bag before you left the clinic, you’re still relieved when you’re able to find what you’re looking for rather quickly.

Billy eyes the knitting needles and balls of yarn cradled in your arms as you bring them back to the bed. They follow the needles and yarn as you drop them on the mattress and then flick back up to yours, waiting for you to say something.

“Well, if I can’t be useful on my feet, I’m going to at least be productive off them,” You tell him. You raise your eyebrow, daring him to object.

He doesn’t. Instead, he brushes the supplies out of your way and motions to the newly cleared space with an open palm.

“Then I reckon you should get off those feet, Sister,” He smirks.

It feels almost like giving up as you settle back down on the bed. You know it’s not - you can only do what your body is allowing you to do. Pushing through the pain or discomfort is fine to a point, but only if there is truly a need for it and as much as you don’t want to admit it, Billy is right. There is no need for you to be up on your feet right now and continuing to give in to your stubbornness is doing more harm than good. The Lord has given your body the ability to give you physical clues as to what it needs. You thirst when you need water, hunger when you need food, and get tired when you need rest. It’s speaking to you now - telling you how the current sleeping environment you’ve put it in has not provided it with the rest and comfort it needs to recuperate from the day to day demands and now it's making you.

Your body is a temple, and you have to respect it and care for its needs.

But just sitting here still feels like failure. You’ve never been one to just sit around for so long and the past few days of doing just that has made your patience run a bit thin. You are a healer. You help people. Doing anything and everything you can for them in their moments of need and it's in those moments that you receive your strength. You didn’t expect to be running around from room to room here as often as you were while working in the clinic, but not having a choice in the matter is more difficult than you could have imagined.

The Lord has designed you to be His helper. Your life’s mission is to help people.

But now you’re finding it hard to even help yourself, and that alone feels like failure.

You close your eyes and send up a brief prayer, apologizing for your pause in the task that He’s granted you by inadvertently hurting the body He’s blessed you with and asking Him to grant you the strength and patience needed to overcome this hurdle.

When you open your eyes, Billy’s still staring at you.

“You seem like you got somethin’ weighin’ on your mind, Sister,” He says.

You shake your head, smiling kindly at him. He’s a sweet boy - kind and caring despite the fact that he’s been the victim of some of your frustration today. “Nothing you need burden yourself with, Billy,”

His eyes are earnest as he watches you, leaning in closer as he says, “Nothin’ you do could ever be a burden to me,”

“Oh, is that so?” You say, the corner of your lips tugging mischievously as you grab your knitting needles and a new ball of yarn. You grab the free end of the yarn, pulling the starting length enough to give you enough to work with before tossing the ball at Billy. His hands are quick to grab it despite being unprepared for the throw and another small smile creeps on his face as he holds the soft sphere in his hand. “Then you won’t mind holding that and making sure my yarn doesn’t knot as I work, right?”

“No, Ma’am. Not at all,”

It’s cozy, you have to admit - working in silence as you cast the yarn onto your needles. The yarn is soft as your fingers brush against the developing chunk of project, and Billy must think so too since you can see how his thumb keeps swiping across the ball kept in his hand. He’s a good helper, keeping the working end of the yarn held loosely between his pointer and middle finger, just enough to guide it and prevent any catching or knots.

You’re making a blanket for the clinic. The rushed packing job almost saw that you had no form of productive entertainment on this trip, but thankfully Sister Ann had enough wits about her to suggest taking your knitting materials. Some of the blankets in the clinic are old and worn, some even well-loved enough to have holes in them. You won’t throw them away. That’s wasteful and you’ll continue to mend them until you can’t. But the clinic can be a sad enough place already, and if you can brighten someone’s day with a blanket that’s not ripped beyond belief and put back together again by the power of God and some well placed stitches, then you’d like to make that happen for them.

Plus, winter will be coming soon. And things can get mighty cold around here.

Billy is content to just watch you, eyes fixated on the movements of your hands and the way the yarn is twisted and eased into the blanket. At one point, you ask if Billy wants to knit too. You have a spare set of knitting needles in your bag and you figure that it might be funner for him to knit too instead of just watching you twist yarn over itself for hours on end. You could teach him if his Ma never did. Knitting is a valuable life skill. The ability to create new clothes or household goods from practically nothing is priceless.

But he shakes his head with a polite ‘no, thank you”.

“Why not?” You ask. “You don’t want to learn?”

“It’s not that,” He replies, still playing with the yarn ball in his hand. “I’d just rather watch you. It’s calming.”

Calming is an interesting way to describe watching someone knit. It’s calming for you - you enjoy it and it's a nice hobby along with being a practical skill to have under your belt. But watching someone knit? You don’t think you could do that for very long without trying to grab a pair of knitting needles for yourself.

“My Ma used to knit,” He says after a while. “I used to watch her make us sweaters or scarves for the winter. I used to hold her yarn too. Just like this.” A small smile pulls at his mouth at the memory. “I would respin the yarn for her when the balls would come undone. It was calming, just sittin’ there with her, in her presence, watching her repeat the patterns over and over.”

His fingers slide across the ball a bit, feeling the texture under his fingertips before he pulls a little more yarn from the ball to give your working strand some more slack.

“This feels like that,” He continues. “Here with you right now makes me feel like I did with her. At peace.”

Your chest clenches at his words and your hand closest to him drops one of the needles before reaching up and resting it on his shoulder.

“I’m honored,” You tell him. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

His eyes flick down to where your hand is cradling his shoulder before they meet yours again, and you're shocked to see a sort of desperation in them with they lock on yours.

“I always pictured I would do it for my own wife one day,” He whispers. “Supportin’ her while she makes somethin’ beautiful for our kids to wear. Or somethin’ warm for them to snuggle up in.”

“You will,” You say. Your hand moves from his shoulder to cup his cheek before you move to grab the knitting needles again. “The Lord will bless you with someone wonderful, Billy. I know He will.”

You hear him hum next to you, but you keep your eyes forward and focused on your project. You know what that hum means.

“Don’t think I need the Lord’s help much,” He says. “I think I can manage just fine on my own.”

The blanket quickly comes to life under your fingers, skillful movements manipulating the yarn into a solid and beautifully woven product that you think will look so homely laid out on the beds of the clinic. Sometimes things can get so boring, bland colors and a too sanitary palette can make an already dreary situation all the more woeful. The pretty blue of the blanket would make a nice contrast to all the white and gray.

Billy watches as you work and keeps the yarn from getting tangled when the balls reach their end and loosen from their coiled form. You only stop a few times throughout the day - once to eat some quickly made oatmeal, once so you can check on Billy’s wound and replace the bandage, and a few times so you could relieve yourselves. By the time the yarn balls you’ve pulled from your bag have been knitted into the blanket, it’s dark out and you have only the small lamp by the bedside table to give you light.

The blanket rests in your lap, knitting needles still in your hand as you look towards the bedroom door and out to where you can see your sleeping area still set up.

“You’re sleeping on the bed,” He says, firmly, as if he can read your mind and see the thoughts you haven’t even fully formed yet.

It’s for the best. You know it’s for the best. The Lord wouldn’t strike you down for doing what you have to do to let yourself heal, even if it means sharing a bed with a man.

And still… “I shouldn’t,”

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor,”

He doesn’t wait for you to respond, already sliding a leg over the side of the bed and you’re grabbing hold of his arm before you can think about what you’re doing.

“No!” You shout, fingers digging hard into his bicep. “You’re injured! You need to stay in the bed.”

He pauses, eyes boring into yours. “You are too,”

“I know,” You say, releasing his arm. Your palm gently rubs over the area you grabbed, trying to soothe any hurt you might have caused when you grabbed him. “I know. I’ll stay.”

He relaxes at your words, lifting his leg back on the bed as he leans back against the pillow.

“I’ll be respectful,” He whispers and the blue of his eyes shines brightly even in the dim glow of the lamp. “I swear.”

You follow his lead, carefully tossing the knitted blanket on the floor and laying back slowly, being mindful of your back as you rest your head on the balled up blanket you snagged from your sleeping spot the last time you got up to make dinner.

“I know you will,”

You haven’t known him for long, but you feel like if there is any man you can trust to be respectful in a situation like this - it’s Billy.

You can see God in him, even if he can’t see Him within himself.

But it still feels weird, feels wrong - sleeping next to another man. And you turn your head to the side, away from Billy, so he doesn’t see the silent tears that flow down your cheek and into the fabric where your face presses harder against the blanket.

You pray until you fall asleep.

There’s a hand on you when you wake up in the middle of the night.

It’s still dark in the room, your groggy eyes opening to pitch black and even though you can’t see anything, you can feel that you’ve flipped over at some point during your sleep.

It gives your back some relief, being on your stomach like this. And the hand gently rubbing up and down the length of your spine helps to bring even more relief. The hand is big, taking up a wide expanse along your back and the soothing back and forth motion of it helps to keep you in the blissful fog of sleep.

You find that your back does feel a little better come the morning thanks to the Lord's healing touch.

Taglist: @queenofshinigamis

#𝑇𝑎𝑙 𝑊𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑠 ✎#billy the kid smut #billy the kid x reader smut #billy the kid x reader #dark!billy the kid #tw: non con #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: dubious consent

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