#was he correct? yes. does this information eat away at my soul? yes. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

missgeniality · 4 years ago

Text

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest.

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities, @kithtaehyung and @baepsaetan, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself.

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse.

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’.

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step.

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir.

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!”

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells.

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy.

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink.

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’”

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you.

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend.

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses.

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting.

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed.

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it.

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame.

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone.

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.”

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest.

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours.

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls.

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold.

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm.

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance.

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.”

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist.

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in.

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole.

“Fuck me.”

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings.

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat.

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no.

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do.

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide.

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!”

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!”

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!”

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke.

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting.

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again.

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side.

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago.

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not.

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down.

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges.

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance.

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream.

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites.

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major.

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency.

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless.

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?”

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act.

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!”

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day.

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage.

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home.

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster.

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities.

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man.

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation. He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one.

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.”

“Hey!”

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self.

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath.

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact.

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church.

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out.

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief.

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream.

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding.

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out.

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne.

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon.

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself.

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin.

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires.

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side.

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim.

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God.

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain.

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information.

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!”

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.”

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them.

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck. Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes.

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.”

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands.

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.”

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different.

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you.

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree.

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can.

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released.

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself.

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well.

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat.

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling. You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat.

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-”

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say.

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more.

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again.

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this.

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long.

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface.

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment.

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock.

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back.

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him.

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right.

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately.

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release.

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high.

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you. An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use.

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him.

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want.

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago.

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛: @little7bitchh, @afangirllikeme-blog, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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bonky-n-steeb · 4 years ago

Text

𝐵𝑅𝐸𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐸

𝙿𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝙾𝙽𝙴

𝘿𝘼𝙍𝙆!𝘽𝙐𝘾𝙆𝙔 𝘽𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙀𝙎 𝙭 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍 | 𝙈𝙊𝘽!𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙑𝙀 𝙍𝙊𝙂𝙀𝙍𝙎 𝙓 𝙍𝙀𝘼𝘿𝙀𝙍

𝗦𝗨𝗠𝗠𝗔𝗥𝗬: Your life is as good as it gets. The perfect husband, the perfect daughter, the perfect job. But what you are unaware is that your husband is a deadly assassin and your long-lost friend, now a fearsome mob boss is hell bent on getting you back. But what you don’t know can't hurt you, right?

𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: psychological disorder, PTSD, domestic abuse, yandere, obsession, violence, cursing. If you find any of this triggering please DNI. Also inform me if I left something out.

ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, sᴏ ᴀʟʟ ᴍɪsᴛᴀᴋᴇs ᴀʀᴇ ᴍʏ ᴏᴡɴ

Oh, lawd! i have to post everything again! Send me all your energy. If you wanna be tagged, just inform me!

Also, I’ll be changing the story by a little, (or by a lot, idk) from my previous version.

You were feeling like John Travolta from the music video of Stayin’ Alive. Vibing to your own rhythm, living your own freedom. Attending college miles away from your hometown, you were the captain of your ship. Though you loved your parents more than anything, you were glad for the freedom granted upon you.

Your Freshmen year had just begun and you had already made a few friends. But what you didn’t want to accept just yet was your crush on one of them, Bucky. With his steely blue eyes and boyish charm, even a goddess might fall for him, and you were just a mortal. You were simply happy with being friends as you believed he would never like you and well, a little crush never hurt nobody.

Completing your shift in a local bookstore, just outside the campus, you were walking back, lost in your own thoughts. What caught your attention was a group of howling high schoolers; from the look of it, they were barely a year to two younger than you. A group of tall and popular kids were bullying a skinny, helpless dude; ufff the usual cliché you thought to yourself. What you failed to notice though was his bleeding nose.

You were a kind soul, always helping others, but you were no fool. All alone in an unknown town, you weren't going to confront the burly teens who were twice your own size. After giggling and cracking some stupid jokes on the poor dude trying to impress a girl, they left him and that’s when you noticed all the blood. You quickly crossed the road and walked towards him. He seemed smaller than he was as he was crouching down and trying to rub all the blood.

“Hey! Pinch your nose, don’t disturb it by rubbing.” you said while bending down. “Uhh, okay... thanks!” he looked at you with big doe eyes and you were utterly mesmerized by the blue oceans he had for his eyes. “Do you.. Do you need something else kid? Where do you live?” you asked giving him a candy and your water bottle. “I’m no kid!” he exclaimed and you flinched.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. You are helping me and here I am shouting at you.” You could clearly see remorse in his eyes and you wondered why would someone hurt him? “yeah, yeah.. It's Okay... now have this candy, the sugar will help you feel better.” you said with a soft smile. “thank you so much... and by the way I live two streets across. I mean I can go by myself, I'm a grown-up.. But...” he trailed off and you helped him get up.

“I’m Steve” he tried his best to smile and you followed by sharing your own name. And with that his chatter train began, he explained that he was just trying to help another girl getting bullied, when the bullies decided to change their target and chase Steve instead.

“you should wear your own mask first and then help others wear theirs.” you quipped and instantly bit your tongue. “Hmm, what?” he asked genuinely curious. “what I meant is that you did what is correct and very brave, but sometimes you gotta think for yourself too. But these are just my thoughts.” you shrugged. “I’ll remember that.” he said with a genuine expression. And after a million thank yous he finally went in his house. By the size of his house, he seemed rich and you wondered maybe this wasn't that cliché.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

The next day, you were walking back the same road, when you thought of Steve. He really was a kind and sweet person. This world needed more of people like him. And just then you saw him smiling brightly and waving at you, his nose bandaged. He had a huge box in his hand.

“Heyyyyy! Thank you for helping me yesterday. So I just... kinda got this as a ... a token of appreciation. I considered you might like donuts, so I got you this.” He said rubbing his nape. His cheeks had become so red he looked like a ripe tomato. “well, if you haven’t already given me diabetes by saying so many thank yous, after eating sooo many donuts I’ll surely get it.” At that you both chuckled and the atmosphere became lighter. As you picked a donut, he looked at you with such admiration you thought you would melt then and there.

Suddenly with a stern expression you asked “what if it’s drugged?” His eyes widened and he stuttered, “I... I would never do that ...” he looked down and you thought he might cry. “hey waittt.. don’t get so sad.. I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. I was just joking. I have this really bad habit of saying things when I shouldn’t. God I just ruined everything.” You just made a mental note not to joke around him, he seemed to be quite emotional. Though it was going to be difficult to tame your tongue. “don’t be. I just take things too literally.... anyway let’s have some donuts what say?” He said with such shine in his eyes you wondered whether he was sad just a moment before.

You both walked up to your university campus, munching on donuts. You both shared things about yourselves. You told him how you were passionate in becoming a doctor. He on the other hand talked about his struggles in studying. “will you help me? You are so smart and bright, will you help me study if I have a doubt or something?” he asked giving his big doe eyes.

You weren’t going to agree at first, you had just met him a day ago. But after looking in those calm blue pools of his eyes you agreed. Seeing the joy on his face, you wondered whether he just won an Oscar.

What you didn’t know was that Steve had already fallen in love with you, yes love, he was convinced that you were the one for him, his one true love. Not a moment had he been able to think of anything but you since he had met you. You were everything he needed and wanted and much more. He was simply desperate to spend more time with you.

☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎☮︎︎

It had been around six months since you met Steve. Over the time you two had turned out to be best friends. While Steve had fallen even more in love with you, you had fallen hopelessly in love with bucky. While you always told bucky about Steve and vice versa, you never confessed to Steve about your love for Bucky, thus furthermore increasing his hopes. You desperately wished to make Steve and Bucky meet. They were two important people in your life and you more than anything wished that they got together well.

Today was the day when you decided to arrange a small meet and greet at the park where you and Steve met every day. You and Bucky walked together towards the tree where you usually sat with Steve waiting there for you. You knew both would like each other, but somewhere deep within your gut you were getting a not-so good feeling about this.

Steve’s eyes lit up seeing you but as they turned to Bucky, it felt as if all the energy had been sucked out of him. You didn’t like that one bit. “Bucky!?” Steve exclaimed in half disappointment and half fear. “You both... you both know each other?” you ask bewildered. You tried chuckling to lighten the mood but by the looks of it they were sworn enemies, but you prayed that you were wrong. “yeah, we know each other a little too well... Uh... We were good friends once.” Steve quietly admitted.

All this time Bucky had his jaw clenched, dragging in a deep breath he began. “I knew it! I knew it would be you, you little fucker! You want to have everything don’t you? Goddammit! I had this feeling it was you but I thought it was too much of a coincidence, but no. fate had to be so cruel.” you were shocked to see Bucky's sudden outburst. You wondered what conspired between the two, as either hadn’t ever mentioned the other.

You were snapped out of your thoughts with Bucky calling your name. “let’s go. I don’t want to see him even for a minute more and neither do you.” Bucky started pulling your hand but you stopped him “Bucky no. I guess you have some misunderstanding; Steve is a good person. And you don’t get to tell me who to talk to and who to not.”

Suddenly Bucky turned back to Steve, anger written all over his face. “You didn’t tell her, huh, did you? Don’t worry I'll tell her. Steve is the son of Joseph Rogers and he is the freaking Don Corleone of this area. Do you know how my father died? Steve’s father had him killed just because unknowingly he provided shelter to his father’s fugitive. Steve just pretends to be a caring, emotional person but he is a snake behind that mask, so is everyone in his family.” towards the end Bucky was in tears and you were in utter shock. Now that you tried to remember, Steve never really did tell you much about his family. And the fact that Steve wasn’t denying any single allegation made you want to puke your guts out.

“You have taken too much from me. But not this. Not her. Not the woman I love more than anything.” Bucky said it out loud in the heat of the moment. You were too dumbstruck to even blink. Did Bucky just confess that he loved you?

Bucky turned to you and held your arm with such softness you wondered if he was just now screaming his lungs out at Steve. “I know I can't tell you who to be with, and I promise I never will in the future, but trust me you want to be caught up with him or his family. And still, if you choose him, well then, I can’t be with you.”

You knew you had to make a choice then and there, there was no going back, and you chose Bucky.

#chris evans #sebastian stan #mcu #marvel #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier x reader #the winter soldier #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #mob!steve #dark!bucky #mob!steve x reader #dark!bucky x reader

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Text

Return to Sender: (Richard Alonso Muñoz x GN reader)

What is this? This is 4/10 one-shots/blurbs for my “friends to lovers” event. I’m not gonna share the prompt as it’s spoilery, but it was requested by @sergeantkane who is a genius for picking this combo! It’s a prompt about LOVE LETTERS! Omg! And thus, it matches perfectly with Richard (trust me, I had NOT made that connection when I made the prompt list :P). Thank you so much for requesting, Clarke, and I hope you enjoy it. I’m excited about this one!

If you’d like to read/keep track of the other fics, I’m keeping an up-to-date friends to lovers list in my pinned post.

Author’s note: Oh, I really quite like this one. Hope it makes you feel as soft as I did for Richard while writing it! Also- it’s my first bash at writing him, so let me know what you think! Thanks to everyone who helped with film details too: those not already tagged in the post- @prurientpuddlejumper @witchyavenger @veuliee2 @waatermelon-sugaar @pascal-isaac

Word count: 4.5 k. So not a blurb, then? :P

Rating: Mature, for light steam (not explicit, but 18+ or out, please!)

Warnings: mentions of food/eating. Mild angst (but it ends well), Steamy. Kissing, brief non-explicit mention of erection. Implied coitus (cut scene). Richard works in a “correctional facility”. Small mention of attempted break-in. If I missed any let me know.

Tagging: @anetteaneta @isvvc-pvscvl @nowritingonthewall @supernovafeather (ONLY READ IF 18+)

GIF by @nathan-bateman

“Have you ever received a love letter?” Richard wonders shyly, without looking up from his crossword puzzle, his long eyelashes fanned out as his gaze dances over the monochrome squares.

Meanwhile, your eyes snap up immediately from your magazine, which you are idly leafing through, a breath catching in your chest.

You bristle at the question, and yet Richard seems either entirely oblivious, or entirely determined not to look-up at you. Perhaps both. So, instead of looking, he simply slurps the dregs of his milkshake, and pushes his plate of waffle remnants further toward the far end of the diner booth.

When he finally raises his gaze – a gentle prompt for you to answer him- his eyes are large and shining under the fluorescent lights as he peers at you over his glass, dabbing at his thick moustache with a paper napkin shortly after.

“No, never,” you state sadly, heeding his prompt with a small smile and a shake of your head. Not even a love e-mail.

“I’m surprised,” he flatters with a cautious smile. And, if you’re not mistaken, his eyes light-up with the faintest trace of desire. The barest undercurrent of passion, which is enough to have your heart beating like a drum. You notice it sometimes; this dull heat emanating off of him. It is a spark which never ignites, however - to your endless disappointment; you would fan that flame if only you knew how.

You swallow. He’s surprised? He can’t be that surprised, you think, a stone sinking through your stomach as you dwell too long on the topic of love letters, and meanwhile, Richard’s attention seamlessly diverts back to 3 across.

“You deserve one,” he says, still looking at the page, but a smile animating his wiry moustache. “A letter.”

You wrap your arms around yourself, a spiralling sadness catching hold of you. Does he not understand what this is doing to you? This painful reminder? “Can we drop it, Richard?” you say tensely, and when his eyes meet yours again, they are even more soft and cautious than usual, causing you to admonish yourself for the bite in your tone.

“Yes,” he says. “Of course,” he smiles thinly, apologetically.

It’s simply the new job, you think. Director of Communications. The man has letters on the brain. Richard is so considerate, that you realise he must not intend to hurt you in dredging up the past; he would never. In a way though, you think, it’s even worse that he brings it up so… casually. You can only conclude he has forgotten that you sent your letter to him at all. Had your heartfelt words, declaring your love, had so little impact on him?

Maybe that’s it. After all, they seemed to have so little impact upon him at the time. What could you expect years later? On the other hand, you -apparently- remain rather sore about the topic, all this time later. It’s natural to be sensitive though, isn’t it? You’d written him a love letter and he didn’t write you back. He didn’t say it back. Didn’t feel it back.

And, perhaps it still stings so much, even all these years later, because you never did stop loving him, even if he never started loving you.

Feeling a sudden, overwhelming haste to leave, you thumb through the pages of your magazine so furiously that the next table turn their heads to look at you, until you find what you were searching for.

“Here, Richard. The article I mentioned. Dramatherapy for people who are incarcerated.”

You fold the magazine back on itself, fobbing it off on him with an unprecedented urgency, hurriedly signalling to the waitress that you’d like the check. The roomy diner booth suddenly feels suffocating, and you want to get out. Meanwhile, oblivious, Richard chuckles at the title of the article -some kind of pun, you recall- as you try to push down the unpleasant emotions surfacing within you.

“Thank you for this,” he smiles, looking up at you earnestly. Looking concerned as he reads the expression on your face. “Are you alright?”

Your eyes fix on the table, where his fingertips inch hesitantly across the surface, hovering moments from yours as he debates whether to extend comfort. You make the decision for him, snatching your hand back from his reach.

“Yes. I’m Fine,” you say, unconvincingly. “Can we please go? I need some fresh air.”

“Alright,” Richard agrees gently. He looks a little flustered, but, now sensing your urgency, he begins to sweep up his papers and to shrug on his jacket. He pulls out a small comb to fix his neat curls in place, and offers you a soft smile. “Maybe we can go to the park next?” he suggests.

As much as you want to run, you nod, some of your agitation dissipating now that the prior topic seems to be forgotten. “Okay. Yeah. That would be nice.” You school your expression into something calm, and you offer him a reassuring smile as his soulful eyes dance over you, a lingering but unobtrusive concern there.

As you split the check, you tell yourself for the millionth time that being his friend is enough; but even after the millionth time, you can’t quite believe it.

Still, today -Sunday- is your one day with him this week. And, no matter what you can’t have; you’ll take anything you can get.

He’s too dear to you to settle for anything less.

************

One month later:

You crouch in amongst the boxes on Richard’s front lawn. He is having a clear-out, setting out some items for goodwill, and some for a neighbourhood yard sale happening next weekend.

You are having fun assisting him in sifting through various items, occasionally bursting into a fit of laughter when he reveals yet another ill-informed, late night shopping channel “bargain” – usually some new-fangled, scarcely-used exercise contraption, which he proceeds to demonstrate in good-humour, making you fold over clutching your stomach in mirth. Occasionally, as you rifle through the boxes, you’ll be overcome by a pang of sentimentality when he uncovers an item with a memory attached; and -no matter how useless- he usually sneaks said item into his ever-growing “to-keep” pile.

“But this is the picnic hamper we took to Bound Beach Island! For your birthday, remember?”

“Yeah, Richard, but it’s battered! It has holes! It needs to go.”

“It was a beautiful day. The light and the dunes were beautiful… and… and y-“

“-Oh my goodness, what is this?! Please for the love of God tell me you never actually wore this!”

You work through the midday sun until you come to a tired, dead halt on the grass, finally parking your ass down and wiping your brow. Richard looks warm too, a “v” of sweat soaking his old, oversized “Save the Turtles” t-shirt. No - he really doesn’t throw anything away. You smile fondly, though, remembering his sea turtle phase. Of course, he’d read some article. He always was looking for a cause.

“I’ll make us some iced tea,” Richard announces with a tired puff of breath, looking more spent than he probably wants to admit after shuttling the various boxes. Still, the way his grizzled curls have fallen away from his harsh side-part appeals to you, sitting disobedient and undone on his forehead.

Thinking of him undone, you hear a faint beating of drums sound in your chest.

You ignore the music though, like always, instead smiling gratefully as he heads inside, and you take a second to collect yourself before dragging the nearest box towards you, deciding you may as well continue. This next box is taped securely shut, and you chuckle quietly to yourself when you notice it’s labelled “workout-gear”.

You peel the packing tape away and open it up, scooping out the pile of miscellaneous papers sitting right on top. Beginning to leaf through, you surmise it’s mainly unopened junk mail; mainly garishly printed promotional flyers - from a pizzeria which closed down years ago, you recognise. Probably hastily stuffed in before his last move and never dealt with. Absent-mindedly, you begin to bundle it up for the recycling pile, when a smaller, more humble envelope drops out on to your lap, a hand-scrawled address on the front. The stationary is resoundingly familiar.

In fact, everything about it is familiar.

Your heart hammers in your chest as it immediately dawns on you.

It’s your letter.

The letter you sent him, all those years ago. You’d needed to be apart from him- needed to go away to take care of family, and you simply couldn’t go without letting him know. Letting him know you were in love with him.

The memory is like a slow knife sinking into your chest as you idly turn it over in your hands.

But… It can’t be…?

It’s… unopened.

All the air leaves you lungs.

No. No. It doesn’t make a shred of sense.

You’d spoken to him right afterward, on the phone. The first time he’d called after you left town he’d almost pleaded with you, giving you an unequivocally clear, and endlessly painful answer that he didn’t want what you wanted. What you’d written about. He’d made it abundantly obvious that he simply wanted to be friends. “I- I don’t want anything to change. I want everything to stay exactly like it is between us – please? Can we still talk every day?”

But if he didn’t read it…?

You heart pounds so hard that you hear blood rushing in your ears.

He doesn’t know.

His words didn’t mean what you…

Oh my god. All this time.

You shoot abruptly to standing when you see him approach, as if you’ve been caught red-handed, guiltily stuffing the letter into your back pocket before he can ask you what it is, an abundance of thoughts screaming in your head.

He hands you the glass of tea, ice tinkling gently, and you take it from him, the coolness shocking your palms.

Assessing what you’ve been up to in his absence, and noting the carcass of another box, Richard glances down at the pile of papers strewn at your feet. He looks suddenly worried for a moment, as if you might have found an old porn stash or something – and he looks just as suddenly relieved when he sees they are more innocent papers, scooping them up from the grass.

“Richard?” you say, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head, and the letter burning a hole in your pocket as he drops the items into the recycling. He hums for you to go on. “Do you... You know when I moved away...?” your voice is strained, and you gulp hard. “Just before, do you remember getting any unusual letters or... weird post from me?”

“Like what kind of thing?” he asks curiously, turning back to you.

“I don’t know exactly,” you lie, nervously. “I have a feeling I sent you something? A sappy goodbye thing?”

You see him mull it over, combing his impressive moustache with his fingers. “I don’t remember, sorry. But apparently I was drowning in junk mail at that apartment. Maybe it got lost, or returned to sender?”

Despite everything, you exhale a small laugh. In a roundabout way, you suppose it had been returned to sender after all. You look at the ground.

“Was it important?” he asks, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand as he looks at you.

Biding time, you take a sip of your tea while you search for an answer. It’s refreshing.

“It… Uh. It was a long, long time ago. Doesn’t matter now, I suppose,” you muse, masking your sadness, and he nods, looking at least half-satisfied with your answer.

Except, it does matter. It matters more than anything. And, with a sudden, overwhelming need to grab on to the past, you track to the “to go” box, rescuing the battered picnic basket from the pile of junk.

“You shouldn’t get rid of this,” you state, your back to Richard, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your voice falters. You tense as you feel him settle by your side, his hand hovering tentatively at the small of your back but never quite touching. “It was a beautiful day.”

“No,” he insists. “You’re right. I shouldn’t hang on to it.”

His words are like a punch in the gut. You turn your head to your side, where Richard is, your eyes and heart almost overflowing.

Noting your sadness, and connecting it to the picnic basket, he does everything he can to smooth things over, like always. “We can get a new one,” he says, his brown eyes sweet and hopeful and bright.

You love him. You love him still and you can’t help but turn towards him and reach out your arms, dragging him in for a hug.

“No! No, I’m sweaty,” he protests self-consciously, but you don’t care. You just need to hold him, even only for a moment – and, for a moment he stills as you loop around him, never quite clutching you back.

When you pull away though, you could swear that dim spark of passion is present in his eyes again. That spark that never catches, no matter how much or how often or how hard you wish it would. Oh, how you wish.

“Don’t ever change, Richard,” you say sincerely, your voice imbued with fondness. “Okay? You’re a sweet, wonderful man.”

His eyes are immediately soft and bashful again, the colour of his cheeks deepening a little, a crimson undertone blooming under his brown skin.

“Yes. Okay,” he offers, with a nod, his eyes creasing at the corners, and his posture even bolstered by the compliment, you could swear, his chest puffing out proudly.

For the rest of the afternoon, you ignore the unread words in the back of your pocket; but for the life of you, you can’t ignore those drums.

************

One month later:

You bundle the yapping, happy little white dog into your arms, relieved that she’s okay as her little tail happily beats against your arm.

“Are you okay, Lady?” you coo as she nuzzles her snoot into your face, eagerly lapping little kisses on to your cheek. “Thanks goodness, sweet little floof,” you baby-talk as your eyes quickly scan around Richard’s place, setting his spare key down on the kitchen counter.

You’d barrelled across town to get here, after receiving a call about an attempted break-in. His neighbour to the left had your contact details in case of an emergency -it’s not very easy to reach him at work, of course- so here you are. You came to give things a quick checking over, assured that no-one suspicious had continued to loiter. Richard won’t be much longer -his shift has nearly ended, and you’d left him a voicemail so you’re sure he’ll hurry- but you still thought you’d go on ahead of him, especially so that he wouldn’t worry about Lady.

Looking around, thankfully all seems well, and you don’t think anyone made it inside after all. Slowly then, you allow your nerves to calm and your heart to settle, bouncing the little bundle of fur in your arms, and feeding her a treat from the packet on top of the microwave, just in case she’d been stressed out.

Calming, you can’t help but smile as you look around, absorbing all the little details of Richard. You do hang out in his apartment a fair amount, but most often you will meet or sit outdoors, when the weather allows. After all, he loves to feel the sun and fresh air on his face, especially after spending all day cooped-up in windowless rooms. To you though, this Richard-ness is like a breath of fresh air, and you let it all wash over you, drinking in the details of his simple daily routine. The discarded half-plate of frijoles and rice by the sink. The ironing-board piled with identical uniform-issue shirts, pants, and plain white t-shirts. The photos on the fridge door – some of you and him too.

Doing a lap of the living space, you further note the dining-for-one TV table, evidence of his relatively solitary existence, and you can almost see him sitting there. Can almost hear his soft voice relating the far-fetched storylines of his favourite telenovelas. You imagine him chuckling warmly - perhaps shedding a tear sometimes too.

You decide you should pop your head into the bedroom and bathroom to check there too, for good measure, and you set Lady down, the dog trotting along at your heels. Once you’ve done a loop, you sigh, seeking out a fresh task, and you circle back to the sink, scraping his discarded plate and rinsing it, stacking it in the dishrack. Then, you move towards the TV chair, intending simply to sit yourself down and wait for Richard to come home. After all, you’re here now - you may as well say hello; or, maybe you can even prepare him dinner after his long shift, you muse.

As you revisit the small, rickety table, however, your eyes more keenly notice that a bunch of papers are strewn over it, all identical- a series of pastel pink leaves of paper and envelopes.

Letters.

Handwritten, in his familiar scrawl.

Letters addressed to you.

Your brow furrows in confusion, as you wonder what they could be. You don’t want to invade his privacy, of course, but perhaps this is something that’s meant for you? After all, sometimes he leaves you notes when you come over to feed or walk Lady.

Still, this feels different, and, with a lump in your throat that you don’t quite understand, you pick up one of the leaves at random, skimming the first line, yet feeling only more confused than you did before.

You see your name at the head of the paper, followed by the words “my dearest love,”, and underneath, some other half-formed paragraphs, scribbled over and crossed out.

No, you shake your head, your stomach flipping over. That can’t be right, you think, even as your fingers scramble for another leaf - for leaf upon leaf, until you piece together what’s going on. Until, with every line you read, fragments of both English and Spanish, you feel as though you are piecing together his heart.

Could it be true? Is this really true?

Your fingers dive for a sheet more developed that the rest, where you see paragraphs of writing, and you devour the words like you are starved of love; for you are, aren’t you? Starved? And yet, you suddenly feel so full. Brimming.

My darling,

There are infinite ways to fall in love. Some are elemental, like a raging fire. A shock of lightning on first sight. Some are slow-burning and constant, the heat of friendship warming your hearth, defrosting your iced fingertips when you come in from the cold.

There are infinite ways to fall in love, and I should know, my heart, as I have experienced every one of them with you.

You can barely read the rest as tears blur your eyes, and your hand comes to clamp over your mouth as realisation sinks through to the pit of you, the page quaking -like a leaf- in your fingers.

You make my heart beat like a drum. When I look at you, I am music, without being played. When you’re with me I am dancing, without movement. If only you would touch my skin, I feel like I would sing. If only you would-

“-Are you safe? Are you alright?” Richard asks from behind you, and you tear your eyes away from the page with a start. You were so absorbed by this swell of beating music that you didn’t hear the scrape of his key in the lock. You didn’t hear his hurried footsteps coming up behind you.

“Richard,” you suspire, and for once his touch is on you without hesitation, his hands clasped around each of your shoulders, slowly running down your arms, and you nod quickly to reassure him, your mouth opening wordlessly. You’re safe.

His touch is warm through your clothes, and you think he is right- your skin would sing for him too if he touched you. Your love rattles you, like drums beating musically in your chest, pulsing through your body.

Then, Richard clocks your sideward, guilty glance at the pile of letters, and you see his panic instantly surface at the thought of all his unsent and unspoken words laid bare before you. All the pieces of his heart exposed.

At first, he looks apologetic, but then you step forwards a little more, into the circle of his arms. Arms which suddenly fall, unsure, at his sides once again. And, achingly slow, endlessly sure, you lift up you hand and you place it on his chest, over his heart, smoothing over his shirt and over the cool metal of the shield he wears there. You feel his heart really is beating like a drum. His chest is rising and falling beneath your hand, his breath quickened – eyes nervous.

You step a little closer, and your fingers continue their slow crawl, dancing up around his collar, inching further up until your fingers finally brush the bare skin at the nape of his neck, pushing up into the curls behind his ears, your thumb skimming his sideburn. You touch him, with your fingertips, and he does sing for you, a half-choked moan leaving his mouth at your tender caress.

“Richard,” you say breathily, searching his face, eyes openly appraising his beauty. “Don’t worry, sweet man. I love you too.” And, when you next meet his eyes there is no nervousness there. Not any longer. Instead, you find his dark, expressive eyes brewing with adoration, and that gentle but ever ascending note of passion.

“Darling, can I kiss you?” he pleads, his voice dogged by desire, his brow knitting together and his hands slipping bravely to your waist, circling you as you arch into him.

“Yes. Yes,” you say, and his mouth meets yours in a desperate, tumultuous crush. You sing too, your skin thrumming as you finally know the feeling of his thick moustache brushing against you. As you taste the sweet flavour of cherry sucker on his kiss. As you finally feel the texture of his slicked curls beneath your fingertips.

You kiss, urgently, until you are each smiling too broadly to continue, and instead Richard beams and presses sweet, intermittent kisses all over – your cheeks, your forehead, your hair, your neck- his moustache tickling wherever it touches. His hands are everywhere they can be politely, roaming over your back and your arms and your hair, and it feels so good to finally be held like this.

Eventually, he pulls back, his smile no longer tugging at his lips so keenly -lips now kiss flushed with deep colour- but shining in his liquid eyes. “How long have you loved me back?” he asks in a still choked, disbelieving voice.

You bite your lip, but then allow your face to split in a radiant, unrestrained grin.

Always. Always. I loved you first, you think.

You reach for your bag, reluctant to break from him so trailing your love’s hand in yours- and you fish out the letter. The one you’ve carried around since it was returned to you. “Take a look, Richard,” you encourage.

He looks from you to the small envelope, turning it in his spare hand as you pass it to him. “What is this?”

His brows rise in confusion as you tap the stamped postmark with your index finger. Years. Years ago.

“I sent you a letter,” you explain. “Telling you I loved you. That I love you,” you correct, squeezing his hand tightly in yours, amazed at how natural it feels already, to touch him.

He audibly gasps in air, looking pained. Devastated. “I never got it. I would’ve-“, he fumbles for words, but he can’t finish them, the magnitude of all those years lost to yearning too big to wrap his lips around. “I never got it,” he repeats sorrowfully.

You shake your head. “Don’t worry about that now,” you soothe. “I got your letter.” And, as you engulf him with your arms a soft smile takes over his features once again. He can��t help it.

“I’m so glad you did,” he beams, drawing you to him for another kiss, which you eagerly accept, opening your mouth to him.

God, he’s a good kisser, his tongue in you deep and eager, and the heat generated is quick to catch, a fire lit in the pit of you. That moustache is a divine thing too, his lips soft and full beneath, his mild-mannered tongue positively sinful as it works against yours.

Letting the kiss grow, you grab hold of him by the belt to draw his body closer to yours, arching your hips into his, and you feel an impressive bulge greet you as you do so.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers bashfully, angling his hips away from you, in case you’re not ready for… that yet. “You’re perfection. So perfect, I… I’m a little bit, uh, excited.”

You don’t blame him. You’re a little bit excited too. There’s a drum beating in your chest. Music in your heart. A song everywhere. A dance in your body.

“W-would you like to take me to the bedroom, Richard?” you purr, softly. “We’ve waited long enough, don’t you think?”

You wish you could capture the bliss which sparks in his eyes then, and keep stoking it forever more. His whole being glows as if you are the sun shining down on him. He loves the sun on his face. He loves you.

He loves you.

*******

Later that night:

At some point after round three, Richard is ravenous, and so you head to the kitchen to grab some snacks. One of Richard’s plaid shirts wards off the slight chill, settled over your otherwise naked body. As you microwave something quick, you can barely keep the smile from your face – even more so as you glance over at the table full of half-finished letters. As the microwave pings and you grab out the plate, another idea occurs to you, and you simply can’t help yourself.

So, you pad mysteriously back towards the bedroom, where Richard is waiting. The blanket is slung low over his hips, skimming the dark trail of hair which draws your gaze down beyond his abdomen. He is covered, and yet you bloom blissfully with heat at your new-found knowledge of what lays beneath. He’s laying with one hand folded behind his head, and one hand rested on the soft, roundness of his stomach, which you had laid your head on only moments ago.

Richard’s eyes shine with unadulterated admiration as you enter, and you flash him a mischievous smile as you transfer the plate to his hands, and subsequently tip a cascade of his letters into the middle of the bed.

“What’s all this?” he asks, with a contented laugh as you bounce eagerly into bed by his side, humming in equal contentment as you slot yourself under his arm.

“I want you to read them to me. Will you?” you ask, sweetly, and he looks bashful all over again. “No-one has ever sent me a love letter.”

“Me neither,” he chuckles. “Or I thought so…”

He hesitates, perhaps feeling shy, but he wraps his arm around you securely, nuzzling you into his side as he picks up the closest leaf of paper.

He hums gratefully as you begin to stroke his smooth chest. He really does sing whenever you touch him.

“They’re not finished,” he caveats. “I wanted to find the perfect words and I… I couldn’t.”

“The words don’t have to be perfect. It’s more important that they’re delivered,” you say, your voice soft as you sink into him, and so, he gently clears his throat and he begins to read, his words and his rich, soothing voice filtering over you like warm sunshine.

After a moment listening, and letting his love and his letters envelop you, you interrupt him gently. “My sweet man. Promise me you’ll never write me another love letter?”

“Are they that awful?!” Richard exclaims.

“No!” you laugh, into his chest, tipping your chin up to look him in the eyes. “They’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. It’s just… I think I hate love letters, Richard. They’ve only ever kept me from you.”

His expression becomes wistful, lost in thought until a smile finally captures him. Then, with a finger curling gently under your chin, he dips down to plant a small kiss to the very tip of your nose.

“No more letters then,” he promises softly. “Let’s always promise to say it out loud from now on. Let’s talk every day.”

You heart full, you bring your hand up to caress his cheek, before planting a gentle, lingering kiss to his lips; and, despite what you’d just suggested, you plead for him to keep reading to you, his voice and his love lulling you to sleep in his arms.

With the love letters as kindling, your dim spark finally catches, your fire now blazing. You set it in a hearth in your chest, and you vow to keep it stoked for always.

THE END

Bonus:

#richard alonso muñoz x reader #Richard Alonso Muñoz #the letter room #richard alonso munoz x reader #oscar isaac #richard alonso-munoz x reader #luna's tumblrversary

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petri808 · 4 years ago

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1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

Inukag AU

As Inuyasha and Kagome cut through a park on their way back to the Higurashi home, they chatted casually, just winding down after a hearty lunch at a nearby cafe. The couple stayed to the pathways traversing the manicured park. It would be shorter to cut through the grass, but why the rush? It was a beautiful location, with a several different kinds of trees dotting the landscape to provide shade and lots of open space for all kinds of activities. Some picnicked, flew kites or played frisbee, they’d even passed a group doing Tai Chi. There were young families to older citizens enjoying the scenery. The couples conjoined hands and twined fingers swayed lazily back and forth between them. Despite the summer heat starting to rise in Tokyo, with blue skies and a gentle breeze brought in from the Pacific Ocean, it was a perfect day for a stroll.

While this journey towards normalcy hasn’t always been an easy one, the past couple of months have been the happiest so far. Ever since leaving the hospital Kagome’s felt better and better. There were even moments she’d made peace with the idea she may not regain her memories. Was it saddening yes, because she wouldn’t remember her job, friends, and other precious moments. But at the same time, she could always make new ones. Sango’s twins were still young. She could relearn her job, and best of all she had Inuyasha who’d she’d become attached to. Their steadily growing relationship was a budding romance regardless of their past history. Think about? Kagome had a chance to re-experience everything in a new way, through a new lens. Well… that’s what she told herself to justify the idea, and so far, it was working.

But there were strange moments starting to occur. Sometimes they were dreams of scenes Kagome didn’t recognize. That in of itself weren’t unusual because how often do dreams ever make complete sense? No, it was in the emotions that came with them. On several occasions Kagome would wake up with the distinct feeling these were not merely dreams but memories trying to break through. At other times, she couldn’t remember the dream, only the emotions she’d felt during them. Sometimes they were so intense, she’d wake up in tears or completely happy for no other reason. According to her neurologist, this was normal during the healing process, but unfortunately there was no true way to tell the difference between reality and fantasy.

“Did I tell you I reached out to Ms. Tanaka the other day?” Kagome asked Inuyasha.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“I called the office and spoke to her briefly about maybe getting lunch one day so she could tell me how things have been there. I may not know exactly what she’s talking about, but maybe it’ll jog my memories.”

Inuyasha lifted their conjoined hands and kissed the back of hers. “I think that’s a really good idea. You guys will have fun talking.”

“I think so too, she seemed very nic—…” Kagome’s voice trailed away as stopped dead in her tracks and her eyes shifted towards one of the parks trees. “Um, c-could we check out that tree?”

“Sure, whatever you want.” Inuyasha smiled knowingly.

It was like her feet gained a mind of their own as they carried her towards a large Sakura tree in the middle of a field. Just from looking at, there wasn’t anything special about the tree. Spring had long since passed and the blooms were no more. But Kagome felt a pull towards this one in particular as if she remembered something about it. What that was she had no idea. She let go of Inuyasha’s hand and reached out, touching the bark of the tree, and staring up at its massive girth. It looked old. Maybe there long before the park existed… maybe older than even the Edo period, who knew? It was just another green leafed tree, yet why was it stirring up a rush of emotions? Happy ones with butterflies dancing in her soul.

Slowly, she moved around the base of the tree like a surveyor mapping it out or searching for secrets only it could provide. And that’s when she saw it. Kagome’s breathing hitched as her eyes fell upon a carving in the wood, approximately five feet above the ground. There, a bit worn nonetheless was a heart encircling two names. “Kagome…” She read aloud, “& Inuyasha—

Oh, my Kami!” She gasped, both hands flying up to cover her mouth in shock. “H-How? When?”

At that moment, Inuyasha walked over, gazing at the words and running his hand over the carving while he spoke. “We carved this about two years ago.” He smiled, eyes crinkling, and growing moist as if reminiscing. “It was a late Saturday afternoon and after eating an early dinner at Genki Sukiyaki, we cut through this park to get to your house. But it started to rain, not very heavy, so we took shelter under this tree.” Inuyasha chuckled lightly. “I remember you being upset about your hair getting wet.” He finally looked to Kagome, placing a hand on her cheek. “You looked so beautiful and even though the weather was miserable, there was just something magical about it all. That’s when you asked me to carve this into the tree.”

“But how did I know to look for it?” Kagome was so confused. “I don’t remember any of that.”

“I have no idea how. But part of you must. Maybe, it’s a sign your memories are fighting to come through.”

The tears gathering in Kagome’s eyes, trickle down her cheeks as a blend of happiness and sadness. She wanted to be happy for such a beautiful memory but devastated that she couldn’t remember it. She wanted to be excited that maybe, just maybe it could be true that her memories were returning, yet she didn’t want to take the chance of a let-down. Inuyasha pulled her into a tight hug as she let go of the angsty emotions. “It’s not fair that I can’t remember! I want to remember!”

“Shhh,” Inuyasha who’s own tears begun to spill, did his best to soothe her with softened tones. “I want that too. It’s gonna get better baby. I think this really is your memories returning, we just have to believe.”

“It’s hard to do that sometimes…”

Inuyasha lifted her chin and swept his thumbs over her cheeks to dry them. “And if you don’t, we’re creating a whole new memory of this tree right now, an even more special one.”

Kagome sniffled. “You think so?”

He nodded his head and placed a gentle kiss on her whetted lips. “What do you think?” Inuyasha questioned with a soft smile. “How can we add to this memory?”

Kagome paused for a moment in thought. “We could add something beneath our names… like… mmm, forever in time?”

“Is that what you want?” She nodded yes. “Okay,” Inuyasha obliged.

He kissed her again then used his claw to slowly, meticulously carve the new words into the bark. It took a few minutes because he wanted to make sure it was easy to read and would last a long time. “I think this is definitely will better than the original memory.”

“Mmhmm, it’s a good one,” Kagome agreed. She felt a lot better now. “Thank you, Inuyasha for being so patient with me. It must be so frustrating.”

Inuyasha shook his head. “Not anymore. I’m not glad about the accident, but I’m cherishing all this time I’m spending with you. Kagome, I truly mean it when I say, this moment right here,” he took her hand. “It’s now one of the happiest moments you’ve ever given me. No matter what,” he smiled, “I’ll always love you, forever in time.”

She giggled. “Forever… I like the sound of that…”

After the incident at the park, Kagome brought it up with the neuropsychologist assigned to her case. The woman patiently sat in her chair as Kagome told her every little detail. What she felt, the emotions, her thoughts, and reactions. She also brought up the dreams she’d been having as well as small incidents that caused her to feel like it might be memories trying to come through.

“Like, just the other day,” Kagome explained. “Sango accompanied me to the hospital for my last physical check-up, but as we passed by the nursery, we decided to stop to look at the cute babies. Then out of nowhere I started to feel emotional, nothing bad, just happy as she talked about the birth of her twins. I mean, yeah it makes sense to feel happy at the time because we were having a good time, but it just felt different. I almost felt like crying. Why is that??”

The woman finished jotting down her notes before speaking. “It’s been about 5 months, correct, since you lost your memories?” Kagome nodded yes. “And according to your latest evaluations, your brain has healed quite nicely. It’s not uncommon at this point for triggers to manifest themselves.”

“I don’t understand…”

“The way long term memory retention works, our brains must process information and create new neurocircuitry, storage if you will once the information has been deemed necessary to keep in the long term. If not, our short term memories are discarded quickly. Of course, this is just a basic explanation and there’s more to it, but what studies have found is memories attached to an emotional event have a higher likelihood of being retained and will evoke a stronger response from us. Think of it like, these emotional memories are much more deeply attached to our psyches.”

“Oh— I think I understand.”

“Mmm,” the doctor hummed. “The park incident was attached to a very emotional moment in your life. So even though you couldn’t remember the event itself, the part of you that remembered the emotions surrounding it did and pushed you towards the tree. Also, the hospital, you mentioned being with your friend Sango and looking at babies. This is just a guess, but perhaps you were feeling the emotions you felt from the time she gave birth.”

As the doctors words were processed, moisture began to pool in Kagome’s eyes. Could it really be true?! Should she really allow herself to hope?! When Kagome finally responded, her voice cracked as it held back the tears. “D-Does this mean… I’m starting to get my memories back?”

“I would say, yes. Again, I cannot say one hundred percent certain, but what you are experiencing is a common one. Those that suffered from acute memory loss, don’t just wake up one day and suddenly they’ve all returned. It’s a gradual process, but once it begins it typically continues at a steady pace.”

“I-I don’t know what to say!” A few happy tears joined the smile on Kagome’s face.

“I suggest that you start writing down the times you feel something or think you’re remembering something and check them with your family and friends. If they confirm it, talk about it. That could help as well to bring more information and memories to the forefront— give your brain a little help to jog itself.”

“Thank you so much, doctor! I’ll definitely do that!”

The woman smiled, reaching over to pat Kagome’s hand before giving it a small squeeze. “You’re very welcome. I wish you all the luck in the world!”

#inukag #inuyasha #inukag au #kagome higurashi #inukag fan fic #inukag fan fiction #inuyasha x kagome #missing memories #ch 8 #petri808

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kerie-prince · 4 years ago

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We're Worlds Apart (4)

Draco Malfoy x American No-Maj!reader

series m.list | general m.list | previous chp

warnings: a curse word if you squint, sassy Draco

summary: Draco Malfoy is a pureblood wizard. Magic runs through his veins and has been since his birth. You're a Wiccan No-Maj; a non-magical being with ordinary blood through your veins, but practices what you call magick. And this very practice upsets your neighbor.

a/n: a day late bc i got distracted watching game of thrones lmao i have adhd so i honestly should've known better than to have something so attention demanding in front of me :P

(gif cred)

Three more days.

Three more days until your brother and his girlfriend come to your Buffalo suburban home to spend Thanksgiving. You came home from work on a better day than the ones from the week before, only to walk inside and was almost convinced you entered the wrong house.

Your mother took the liberty of decorating your house while you were gone. The place looked like an IKEA catalogue. Green and cream colored throw pillows were on your black leather couch, your small dining table had a fall-themed centerpiece and a blood orange table cloth. New dining chairs, all of them matched, unlike the mismatched ones you had before. And that god-forsaken ‘Live, Laugh, Love’ wooden sign hung in your kitchen. That damn thing is leaving first thing in the morning.

“Ma, what the hell did you do to my house?” The more you looked, you groaned at what you saw. Your grandmother’s tapestry was no longer hanging at its original place, now hung hidden behind the tv. “Oh, don’t give me any grief about it. Y/B/N is coming and I don’t want the place looking like the Spirit store.”

You knew you couldn't really fight her on this. It would be more frustrating to have to argue and still not be able to put everything back to how it was until she left. Taking a deep breath, you walked yourself to your room to get changed into comfortable clothes and light some sage for your nerves.

Three more days.

—

One more week.

In a week's time, Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott were to come to New York to spend the month of December with Draco and to say he was excited was an understatement.

He was excited, nervous, and many other feelings that he was too stressed to name. The guest room was prepared for the two of them to share, all he had to do was figure out what to do with them while they were here. He had taken a week off and had no idea what to do. He still hadn’t gone around the city he lived in. He could always ask his friends at Saint Marie but for some reason, he was too shy to.

He could always ask Mrs. Charles for recommendations on what to do. She was a sweet muggle neighbor that he came to like as well as her husband. He could also ask you, but it’s been over a week since he spoke to you in your yards. From glimpses into your window, you seemed so exhausted. Not that he really cared, but he remembered that you would try to get along better and so far, all he’s done was give a nod towards your direction when he walked into his home as you were leaving yours.

His bedroom blinds were always closed now because he knew that if he were to see you doing your… whatever you do in your room just once, he’d change his mind about the whole thing. It still bothered him, but not as bad as it did when he first saw it.

Draco’s stomach growled as he sat on his couch, bringing him out of his thoughts and walked over to the kitchen. To his despair, his pantry, cabinets, and fridge were all empty. Guess I’ll have to grab something. He pondered on what he was in the mood for as he ran out the door. Draco figured he'd just figure it out as he drove around the streets downtown.

Since moving to America, he found so many new cuisines than he had ever imagined. He usually always ate at home, and if his family ever ate outside of home they usually went to the finest restaurants in France. Of course, they were all wizard-owned restaurants. But in New York, he’s been introduced to new things. For one, he had his first ever hamburger with Blaine. Ashley took him to a Chinese restaurant, and Ian bought Draco a traditional New York pizza.

Yes, all these things existed in London. Maybe not so much New York-style pizza, but there was pizza. Draco, however, never had the opportunity to try any of these foods. Lucius was extremely strict about eating out. It was never necessary considering he could afford the best quality foods to be made at home. When they did eat at restaurants in France, it was only because a higher official at the Ministry had invited them for a night out.

Around the streets, the bright lights of buildings and restaurants lit the streets as he drove around them. Draco turned into a street he hadn’t been into yet in hopes to find something else he could find to try. There were a couple places he hadn’t been into; a Greek restaurant, a Brazillian one, and a couple shops. There was one shop close to the end of the street. It was sandwiched between two boutiques and had a neon green and purple sign in the front. Soul Beads. In front of the building was a man with a weird sign in one hand and an even weirder thing that seemed to have made his voice louder in the other. Draco couldn’t make of the rubbish he was yelling into the thing from inside his car.

Draco pulled to the curb to walk around the street and check out the restaurants. A bell jingle caught his attention, turning around to see one person he didn’t really expect to see here. “Draco?” your face showed the same expression as his. He watched as you closed the door to Soul Beads and walked up to him. The weird man that stood in front of the store yelled out, “DON’T TALK TO HER, THIS BITCH HERE WORKS FOR THE DEVIL!”

“Do you know him?” Draco asks with a quirked eyebrow. The stranger kept yelling profanities at you but Draco saw how you couldn’t be bothered by it. “He does this every couple weeks. What brings you out here?” Your hands were stuffed tightly in your pockets for warmth.

“Do you own the street? Can I not be here?” he asked sarcastically. You faced him with a deadpan look as to ask him again without having to say the words to him. Or call him a smartass. Which he is. With a roll of his eyes, he continued, “I’m looking for something to eat but I’ve never been to these places before.”

“Ah,” you started, “Well I don’t know what kind of stuff you’re used to, but I suggest the Greek restaurant right across. Over-priced, but the best gyros you’ll ever have in Buffalo.”

“It’s yee-roh, not jahy-row.” Draco corrected. He couldn’t tell if you were irritated or confused after he said that. Probably both.

“You know Greek?” you asked.

“I studied it when I was a child. My tutor showed me the word once and hit my hand when I had mispronounced it. Learned the hard way to never do that again,” flashbacks to the older woman teaching him the language cursed his mind for a few seconds.

His stomach growled even louder now in the silence between them. Draco blushed in embarrassment, shifting around to look away so you wouldn’t see. You slightly chuckled and tapped his shoulder. “Come on, neighbor’s treat.” And you walked onto the busy street.

This bloody woman is crazy to be crossing a busy street he thought as he rushed to follow you across the street. He got scared as a car got too close and ran to the safety of the sidewalk. “You’re gonna get yourself bloody killed one of these days like that,” he scolded. “If you’re gonna live in New York, you’re gonna have to deal with annoying pedestrians and sometimes be an annoying pedestrian. Be glad you don’t live in Manhattan, they’re worse. A person could be hit by a car and he’d just get on up and keep walking.” you informed.

Draco would be lying to himself if he said that didn’t spook him a little. Sure, he’s seen a few students get hexed, some by him, but they’d never just dealt with it and continued walking in the halls. They’d either have to hope their friends knew the counter curse or they’d end up in the hospital wing and had Madam Pomfrey help them back to normal. These muggles really are just… strange.

The restaurant looked old and desperately needed a remodel but by Merlin, it smelled amazing. “Now, are you getting a yee-roh sandwich or are you getting something else?” you mocked his previous correction with a playful roll of your eyes. Draco looked at the menu but it didn’t matter as he didn’t know the first thing about Greek food. What the hell did my father force me to take lessons for? “Do you want me to just order for you?” you asked as he kept browsing for too long. There were only 12 things on the menu but it still confused him.

He held back a snarl as he agreed to your help. He stood aside as you ordered and waited until it sounded like you were done, then headed up to the window to pay. “Oh, you don’t have to. I insisted I would pay,” you tried to push his hand away and reach for your credit card but he proceeded to hand the money to the cashier. “It’s nothing.”

“Here or to-go?” the lady asked with a thick New York accent. The two of you just looked at each other waiting for someone to say something. “Do you want to just-”

“Eat it here?” He looked at the small space and saw only one unoccupied table by the window. One of two tables. No longer growling, his stomach was shaking nearly violently, indicating that he can’t wait any longer. It was a strange feeling to be starving. Never had he ever had to wait for food at Malfoy Manor nor at Hogwarts. Whether it was house elves or first years, someone always ran to get him food with a snap of his fingers. “Yeah, here’s fine.”

The lady handed your plates to you as he went to claim the small table before someone else did. He looked around the space with a slight disgusted look. It’s not that it was run by muggles, but just because the place looks so old and kind of dirty. Even the house elves at the Manor lived in better conditions. The corner he sat in made him feel slightly claustrophobic. How do they sit and enjoy anything like this?

You sat the food on the table and shook your jacket off on to the chair. Draco watched as you placed the plates as neatly in front of you both. He couldn’t help but notice the rings that covered most of your fingers. Some were simple silver bands, some bronze bands, and some looked like wire that had a wrapped, colorful rock in the center. They were mismatched but coordinated at the same time. If that made any actual sense.

You started some simple small-talk, “So, what brings you all the way out here?”

“I got a better job opportunity,” Draco responded. His voice sounded uninterested, and his eyes stared at the plate. It had three pieces of meat on a bed of white rice, a small salad and a little dipping bowl of some white sauce. He dipped the meat into the sauce and as he tasted it, he nearly groaned in content. The flavors danced around his mouth and he had to hold himself back from devouring the whole plate in a matter of seconds.

He could feel you staring at him but chose not to look up to see judgement in your eyes. Whether it was with amusement or not. The food was so good and he would most definitely order another one to-go on his way out for his lunch break tomorrow. I’m definitely bringing Blaise and Theo here.

“What kind of job do you do?” Draco stopped chewing his food and swallowed nervously. He should’ve expected this kind of question sooner or later, but here he was sitting in silence trying to figure out what to say. He couldn’t just tell you that he’s a Healer because then that would lead to more questions and that’d be more answers he couldn’t give you. “What, you don’t wanna tell me?” you furrowed your eyebrows at him as he continued his silence.

Finally, the word popped in his mind, “I’m a doctor.” Hopefully that ends that conversation.

“That’s cool, what kind of doctor are you?” Shit. There’s more than one kind?

“Uh, I work with people who come into the hospital with major injuries like a broken arm and such,” Draco stuttered.

“So, an emergency room doctor. You work in the ER then,” you concluded with a hand over your mouth as you chewed. “Y-yeah, that.” Draco tried not to sound suspicious. “What about you?”

You cleared your throat, drank some of your soda and pointed out the window, “You see that store over there? Soul Beads? That’s my store.” It was weird how coincidental it was that of all streets to drive into and of all people to run into, he ran into you coming out of your personally owned store. Looking back at you, he saw your face relax and smile at the building. “What do you sell? I’m assuming it’s not food seeing as you didn’t invite me in.”

Now it was time for you to stutter, “Oh, just candles and stuff. Nothing too flashy.” You poked at your food and took small bites of it. There was an awkward silence between you two for about ten minutes before you started the conversation before, “Assuming you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, will you just be working that day?” Draco didn’t know much about the holiday, only that he was getting paid more that day.

“Yeah, I’ll be at the hospital for the night. Probably until four in the morning.”

“Well that sucks. You’ll miss out on the greatest American tradition that is Black Friday,” you chuckled.

“What’s that?” Yet another thing Draco didn’t understand.

“Black Friday is when people fight to the death for a discount on things like appliances and tvs. It’s quite amusing to watch,” you slightly exaggerated. Keyword slightly. Draco had wide eyes as he heard the description. “I’m sorry, to the death?”

With that, you laughed so hard you placed one hand flat against your chest and the other held the table with a tight grip as if you were to fall from your seat. He then realized you actually didn’t mean to the literal death and mentally scolded himself for being so gullible. You continued laughing and he rolled his eyes before chuckling to himself. You leaned back up and wiped some tears underneath your eyes, “Oh my god, I needed that laugh.”

A shiver went up Draco’s spine once he caught a glimpse of your smile. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you smile at all. Before your little argument, you would smile towards him and all the other neighbors all the time. But this never happened before. He looked away from your eyes and tried to find anything else to look at. Tilting his head up, he saw an air conditioning unit. Oh, that’s why.

Small talk ended there with a clear of his throat and proposed to go home. Draco saw how you looked a little disappointed and forced a small, kind smile on your face, “Yeah, it’s getting kinda late and I don’t want to keep my mother waiting. God knows what she’s done to my house while I was gone.” He wasn’t going to keep pressing on the matter as he figured they still weren’t close enough for that. One dinner didn’t make them friends in his book. It wasn’t terrible, though. Maybe he would do it again.

Walking to their own cars, she said “See you around, neighbor,” and got into her car and drove off. He just nodded his head as he always did and drove off as well. They arrived home at the same time and walked inside without looking at each other, thinking that it would just be weird to keep saying goodbye.

—

It was finally Thanksgiving, and Y/B/N and Stephanie were going to be over around three in the afternoon. Your mother was more of a pain than usual, waking you up at six in the morning to do last minute cleaning, grocery shopping, and starting on roasting the ham. The loud argument over ham or turkey in the grocery store the week before lasted for an embarrassing two hours after your mother caved and let you pick the main entree for dinner.

Once you got an hour to yourself, you went to your closet in the hall and grabbed a small glass jar then walked to your backyard for some lavender. You walked to the kitchen for a stick of cinnamon, placed the items on the kitchen counter and walked quickly to your room for something small. Your eyes found a loose ribbon on the floor and grabbed it then went back to the kitchen.

You put all the items into the jar and browsed the kitchen for one more thing. There was a bouquet of flowers on the dining table that your mother bought. Perfect. You grabbed a couple flowers and took the petals to mix in the jar. Once you were done, you chanted to yourself three times:

“Goddess, please take the negativity out of this kitchen.

Replace it with positivity and love. So mote it be.”

You heard your mother waking up from her nap from the guest room and ran into the kitchen to hide the jar somewhere she couldn’t see it. The spell can’t exactly work if she sees something to nag about. She walks in the kitchen and sees you looking suspicious.

She looks at you with squinted eyes - mainly because she had just woken up - but said, “I’m not gonna ask what you’re up to. Can you make the potato salad? I like the way you make it better.” You silently agreed as you looked for the things in the fridge and grabbed a large bowl to mix it in. Your mother walks up to one of the cabinets to grab a pot to boil the potatoes with, only to find the thing you tried to hide. “What’s this, honey?”

You stammered over your words trying to find an explanation before she cut you off, “It’s pretty with all the things in there. You should keep it out.” She placed it beside a photo on the countertop and walked away to fill the pot with water. You were surprised she didn’t ask any further questions. You continued cooking and had a hopeful smile on your face. Maybe it won’t be so bad tonight.

The doorbell rang and you both looked at the clock on the wall. It read 1:55 and you looked at each other in confusion. “Y/B/N must be early,” your mother guessed and went to the door to let him in. The greeting was loud as she greeted him in. You could hear your little brother’s laugh with enthusiasm as he walked into your kitchen, “What’s up, big sis?”

You placed the utensils down and ran up to him with your arms up, “I’ve missed you too, baby brother.” He was much taller than you as he picked you up and hugged you tightly. You slightly swung your legs to give him the signal to let you go. He got his height from your dad, leaving you short thanks to your mother. Your brother had a big smile on his face and you reciprocated the smile. It’s been a long time since you’ve seen each other.

“Oh, lemme introduce you. Steph, c’mere!” He looked over his shoulder and called for the special guest. A beautiful woman with long, chocolate brown hair and doe blue eyes walked next to Y/B/N. “It’s so nice to meet you, I’m Stephanie.” She held her hand out causing you to quickly wipe your hands on your apron. “Hi, I’m Y/N.”

“Y/B/N has told me so much about you. I was so nervous to meet you,” Stephanie admitted with a slight blush on her cheeks. “I wonder what this dummy told you. I bet you I can tell you more embarrassing stories about him,” you jabbed his arm.

“That’s not fair, I didn’t say anything all that bad. You’ll hex me or some shit,” he had his hands up in defense.

“Y/B/N!” Your eyes widened and you laughed nervously, “Don’t listen to him, he’s an idiot.”

Stephanie looked back and forth at the two of you and finally settled on you, waving a hand, “Oh no, that’s okay. I practice, too.” Wait, what? It seemed your mother thought the same exact thing, only out loud. “Yeah, Stephanie also does the same thing you do. Crazy, right?”

Your mother stood shocked before them, not saying anything. Your brother had a smile that wasn’t exactly fitting the situation. Stephanie had a kind smile, and although you were visibly surprised that your little brother’s girlfriend was, of all things, also a Wiccan, you were laughing inside at your mother.

This is gonna be the most interesting Thanksgiving ever.

—

next chp

(っ◔◡◔)っ taglist: @beiahadid @malfoy-styles-wife @fivenightslaughter @juneballoon999 @leydileyla @fangirlanotherjust @originalsoulcollector @opiomancy @lipstickandloveletters @ninacotte @daedric-sorceress @frecklesandfirecrackers

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy au #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy fic #draco malfoy x muggle!reader #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x female reader #draco x you #draco x y/n #draco x muggle!reader #draco x female reader

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the-silentium · 4 years ago

Text

Rock Bottom

Masterlist - Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Fors is an Original planet. I do not give permission to people to use it for their own fics, the planet, the animals, the Nightmares, the lore or anything related to Fors. Thank you.

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader

Words: 4150 words

Warnings: Blood, gore, monsters, killing, ANGST, cruel world in action.

A/N: I just reached 500 followers?! This is crazy! I love you all people who somehow put up with my insanity ♥️

Taglist: @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @clone-rambles

______________________

The vice grips around your upper arms burned as the talons cut through the fabric and tore through the skin. The humanoid creature hissed in pain when your bodies switched position and he got the worst of the branches. Soon, you found yourself falling on top of the Algax, out of breath and in pain.

It quickly rolled over, throwing you to the ground right under itself. You heard yells and saw lights illuminating your surroundings, but more importantly, you saw the eyeless, noseless face mere centimeters from your face, the hideous lining that you thought was its mouth looked burned and sewn shut as if to prevent it from feeding on its prey.

You would have been relieved of the fact if the pain in your arms hadn't moved to your whole torso. He was crushing you to death!

Out of your daze, you trashed around, feet kicking what would be its chest, attempting to push it away. Screeches erupted from tiny slits at the side of its hectically rotating head, the Algax abruptly jerked away from the ground, your body still in its grip. It started moving away from the clones, unbothered by the blaster bolts hitting its back successively or by your movements.

Orders were barked in your ear but they didn't register. All you could acknowledge was the building pressure around your bones, how it was becoming almost impossible to breathe even the tiniest of breath. You were positive that your ribs would start to break at any second now.

The primal part of your brain then took over, reaching for your knife and plunging it forward in the dark blue arm holding you above ground.

The effect was instantaneous. You were thrown like a rag doll to the side, right into a trunk. The thud of your head hitting the wood resonated through your skull, stilling you. Your whole body seemed to completely stop functioning for a whole second before remembering that this wasn't the time to chill out.

A moan nearly escaped your mouth as the first satisfying breath of the last minute filled your lungs. How could you never realize that breathing felt so right? Breathing felt so good. So much better than being squished like a miserable insect. Oh no. Was this how they felt every time you'd step on them? This was so crue-

"Are you okay?" Confused, you blinked at Tech's question.

"Me?" You pointed to yourself as if the question wasn't clear enough.

Then the pain in your arms registered and-

"Holy mother fucker that hurts!" You whined, experimentally poking the bleeding skin to see if this really was the source of the pain.

"Don't touch it!" Tech chastised, slapping your hand away, to which you glared in return.

"I'll die of a blood disease." You pouted, watching as your wound touched the disgusting bloody mix you spread on your clothes earlier.

"Highly possible." You felt the color leaving your face. Maybe you said it, but you didn't want it!

"But we won't let that happen." You jumped at the gauze tightening around your wound unexpectedly, your opposed hand almost shooting out to hit him instinctively.

"That was an Algax, correct?" Hunter approached behind Tech, keeping an eye on the surroundings while the engineer fixed your other arm.

"Spot on. He ran away, right?" The dark blue monster was nowhere to be seen, not that it bothered you.

"Right after you stabbed him." He handed you your knife that you apparently dropped at some point. "Look like those things are blaster proof or something."

"Maybe it has something to do with the fact that there's no blaster in the lore." You gladly took the life-saving weapon back, securing its handle in your grip where it belonged.

"Does your head hurt?" Tech inquired, getting up when he was satisfied with the makeshift bandages.

"Nope. All good." It was pounding in there, but whatever.

Getting back on your feet with Tech's help, you took a second to stabilize yourself before giving a heart attack to the nerd.

"Don't do that!" He yelped, catching everyone's attention on your stretching self.

"I'm just stretching..."

"You just hurt your back! Don't flex your spine like that!" He successfully got you back straight with a slap to your abdomen.

"We have to leave." Crosshair cut you off, pushing between the both of you to get ahead.

"I agree with Cross. No more fuss." You speed-walked to catch up to the abrasive clone, desperately trying to keep the laugh in at the rhyme.

"Thanks for that." You whispered to him, eyes already moving from shadow to shadow.

"Don't thank me. If you stretch again I'll make your life more miserable than it already is." Oh how this only made you want to stretch to push his buttons.

"Can't make it miserable if that means you'll be around." You grinned, unabashed by the meaning of your words. It was time for him to warm up to you a little more.

Every second of silence made you cheer inside. Rending the snarky sniper speechless was an exploit after all.

"I can figure something out." He countered weakly after a while.

Chuckling, you rotated the handle of your knife between your skilled fingers, alternating it from pointing forward and backward to pass your sudden regain of energy. Why did he have such an effect on you? It still was a mystery that you'd have to elucidate later.

"I hear a voice." Hunter informed the group.

"Is it calling you?" This was never a good sign, the Venuste were really effective critters in their task of enchanting everyone around. Keeping him with you and away from them would necessitate Wrecker's muscles.

"No, it's a kid's voice. Whining about flee- fleeing? Something like that. It's not clear."

"A kid?" You stopped dead, deeply confused. Had the council gone mad?! What could possibly justify sending kids out to their death? Or did they get caught outside like you did? "Where?"

"Sure it's not a trap?" He pointed over your shoulder to your right.

"One way to be sure." It genuinely hurt to stay in position and not speed walk through the trees to verify if the council had gone from a bunch of imbeciles to a cohort of assholes running the whole village to their doom.

You had to remind yourself that when you agreed to join the commandos, you'd made a promise to fight for them as well as with them and that you'd be a reliable asset at any time in any given situation. You weren't alone anymore.

It didn't change the fact that it was hard.

"It's personal?" Crosshair clearly saw the shift in your mood, from the tightness in your muscles that wasn't there before to the sudden lack of motion of your armed hand.

"I just want to know if I'll break my hand again or not."

"Break your hand?"

The question passed over your head when you heard the young boy's voice. He wasn't from the village, you knew every kid there mainly because you liked to help them build traps for strangers to fall in and they liked your prank ideas. You didn't know how to tell Tech that you were the one to propose the phosphorescent bird poo mixed with loth wolf puke idea. Maybe it was better to take it to your grave.

You halted at the edge of the clearing illuminated by the moon and its stars, eyes glued to the young boy walking in circle a couple of meters away, his bare feet bleeding profusely from the incessant walking he endured for who knew how long. Your heart squeezed at his fate. No one deserved this kind of torture, let alone an innocent child.

Your eyes adjusted to the new light, a new serene pallet of color taking over the gradually fading shades of blue and black.

The boy's clothes were torn up and dirty to a point where you couldn't say for sure what color it was initially or if there was a design on it like most children liked to wear nowadays.

"What's wrong with him?" Wrecker's worry hit you in the gut. You shouldn't have to tell him this because this shouldn't exist.

"He's a Wanderer, now. A Lumsin got his soul." You slumped, defeated.

"His soul?" He tilted his head and although you couldn't see it, you were sure there was a frown hidden under the customized helmet.

"Yes. Everyone has a soul and Lumsins feed on them. When they eat a soul, the body becomes lost and wander around, walking and walking until it dies."

"His soul got eaten." He reiterated in a whisper, the hand lifting to his head not lost on you.

"Y-" Your heartbeat shot through the roof when your eyes found a crest necklace around the kid's neck.

You knew that crest all too well. And those beautiful red hairs, they should have made you realize sooner. Way sooner.

"I know him." It unconsciously escaped your lips before you leaped forward, not able to repress your urges anymore.

Crosshair was hot on your tail, the others staying in the shadows to keep an eye out.

You jumped before the boy, hands rising to his cold cheeks, wishing that the gesture would pull him out of his spell. He merely rammed into you with his small 6 years old emaciated body, barely making you budge.

He continuously mumbled the same sentence, the last thought his body heard from his soul before the contact was lost.

"I want Fleena."

"Nixon, buddy." You grazed the freckles on his cheeks with your thumbs. He was so familiar.

You'd never met him when he was still a lively boy, their village wasn't one to be in close contact with the others, but you've seen extremely detailed drawings of him. Plus, he looked so much like his sister.

"We have to go." Crosshair pressed, anxious to be so out in the open. You knew you were being delusional and were basically putting him in danger for someone who couldn't be saved, but you had something to do.

"I'll be quick." You assured the sniper before taking the robin carved necklace off Nixon's small neck to store it in your pants pocket.

"Your sis' loves you very much, Nixon." You tenderly kissed his forehead like any child should be kissed, with utter softness and care. "And she wants you to be free."

You could easily remember the nights out between the local cantina and the general store, where Fleena would show you drawings of the beasts that attacked her village when their gates got breached. You were terrified. Her whole village was wiped out in a single night, leaving her behind with a mind plagued with nightmares and grief.

She talked often about Nixon who had turned 6 the week before it happened. She would relive her best moments with him, where laughs and smiles were a common occurrence. Then she'd close on herself, praying to the merciless gods above to at least let her brother be in peace.

It broke your heart to know that it wasn't the case. That he was still trapped, may his soul be somewhere else, hopefully, in a better world, his body was still living in a wicked world.

"You deserve to rest Nixon." You ruffled his hair like Fleena used to do.

With a quick movement of your hands, you freed him from his torment in this cruel world.

The world numbed for a moment, mind blocking the events for your own sanity, but it wasn't enough. It didn't stop all the injustice of this world. A vast beautiful world that you couldn't explore because of monsters waiting for the right moment to bounce. You were forced to live in a cage when the world was so vast. Kids were forced to grow up too fast or couldn't grow up at all. This world was sick.

It took 2 hours for your stomach to empty itself on the ground for the first time of the night. In all honesty, it was longer than you initially expected.

Oh. You didn't expect either to find yourself back into the woods, without any memory of making the way back. Hands alternate from patting your back to stroking up and down between your scapulas.

Someone's tears fell onto the bile, or maybe it was raining. Yes, it was raining. You felt the water stream down your cheeks like rivers, the two trails joining at your chin to fall on the ground.

"You freed him." Crosshair crouched to your level so you'd not tune him out like you did the others. "You helped him."

"I helped him." You repeated. It was true.

"You did." A finger moved across your cheek to remove the remaining rain from your face. No. They were tears. Your tears of pain.

"I hate to force this on you, but we have to get back to the rav-"

A scream of distress pierced the night, cutting off the sergeant in the worst way possible. Everyone froze, listening to the yells asking for help that only you understood. Another hunter. He wasn't that far away.

"He's asking for help." You mumbled slowly coming out of your daze.

Your eyes moved away from the bile splattered before your knees to meet the black and white helmet of your sergeant. You were in no position to decide, the fog in your mind only beginning to dissipate gradually.

"We can't help." The requests for assistance had already morphed into screams of pain and agony that they didn't need to be translated to understand.

"We hurry back and get off this rock." He cut short, the yells fading quickly in intensity.

Hands under your armpits helped you up. Shaky legs stilled after a couple of seconds and a few deep breaths. Slowly as if you'd double over at any second, Wrecker's huge hands let go of their grip on you. With a muttered thanks you harshly wiped your face with your hands to get yourself together.

You needed to bottle up every event happening tonight for later. You'd have time to scream, thrash around and cry when you'd be safe within the Havoc Marauder.

"Ready." You affirmed after swallowing the lump in your throat.

The night was silent again, meaning that the beast could either be feasting or roaming around again. The group will have to be extra careful to return to the ravine and stay under the radar. Many species could have caused this kind of screams and they weren't to be messed with.

Hunter took the front while you took his place in the middle, just behind him. Crosshair grazed your right arm, Tech your left and Wrecker got your back.

You purposefully ignored the worried glances coming from Tech, it surely must have been a shock to see you do what you did in the clearing. It was so out of nowhere for them. But it wasn't for you. A big part of your brain simply wished they would not abandon you on the planet once you all make it back to the ship.

This time, you were the first one to notice the change in the atmosphere. What was interpreted by Hunter as the wind humming through the trees was in fact a very angry Kribat protecting its territory.

"Hide!" You whispered harshly in the comlink you hurriedly pulled out of your pocket. There was no way they'd see your hand sign at your current position.

It was so sudden that they stopped for a millisecond, unsure of where to hide. You pushed through them to lead the way to a deeper line of trees on your left, feet moving faster to get more distance between the Kribat and your group.

Your feet slipped under yourself when you ducked behind a particularly large tree. Despite your best efforts to stay upright, gravity pulled you down to your fall, as it clearly enjoyed to do, both physically and mentally.

The ground wasn't as hard as you remembered, a bit soft if you were to define it, and warmer.

It wasn't until Wrecker pulled you upright once again that you realized that your fall had been broken by a shredded body. Dread washed over you as you saw the two other hunters who'd suffered the same fate, laying close by in a pool of their blood, missing some limbs.

You knew them. They never had a place in your heart, but you knew them nonetheless and would never have wished them to suffer like they did. You knew two of them had families waiting at home. Well. Maybe they weren't waiting, merely hoping that they would come back by some miracle.

Two feet away from a Kribat's preys was the worst place to be right now, but you couldn't move to another spot. Not with the howling Kribat right behind yours and Wrecker's hiding spot.

It was awfully close. Too close to your liking and way too angry to hope to survive its attacks if it were to find you.

Wrecker had you pressed to his chest by a hand right over your breast, detail that flashed into your mind although it was totally irrelevant. He was just stressed like you were. His hands simply reached for you in his haste and happened to find the friends-are-not-supposed-to-touch spot so you dropped it. At least he wasn't groping.

The ragged breathing of the feral beast passed as it reacted to a movement nearby, giving chase to the unfortunate creature. For a painful second, you thought that it might be one of your teammates, Tech and Hunter were out of view while Crosshair was peeking back to get a glimpse of the retreating beast.

Just as you tried to push away to see if the missing clones were around, Wrecker's hand pushed you more into himself, crushing your boobs like they were never crushed before.

"Everyone's okay." He informed you to keep you still, not releasing his grip. You hummed in acknowledgment.

"Wrecker." He hummed back, waiting for you to continue. "Hands off my boobs."

You've never seen a hand fly away as quickly as Wrecker's did. Yours didn't even move that fast when you accidentally put your hand on a lump of red coal and you remember having a good reflex then.

"Hands off what?" A harsh whisper in your right ear caused the demolition expert to sputter.

Apparently, the comlink in his helmet caught your voice.

"I didn't know Sarge!" He explained without any more delay. "Sorry Y/N."

He kept his free hand far from your body now that the danger has passed. It would have been hilarious if only you weren't at the lowest emotionally.

" 's fine Wrecker." You shrugged, unbothered by all of it and way too exhausted emotionally to care. It was an accident in the midst of action, nothing more, no need to create a whole drama because of it.

A piece of wood in the bloody mess caught your gaze. Your heart skipped a beat at the recognizable darker tint of the object, tonight was getting slightly better.

Crouching, you reached for the thick wood stick, fingers moving along the carvings etched into its length. Both in relief and satisfaction, you found the energy in yourself to smile.

"Found something?" Tech approached from your side, the remaining missing soldier in tow.

"Yeah. Most useful stealth weapon on this planet." You showed him the bloody bow, your other hand sliding your knife into its rightful place in your boot.

Rolling the body to the side respectfully, you checked for the quiver that you found still strapped to his back. Slowly, you pulled it over his head to pass it over yours.

"This is a fine piece of work." Despite his words, you could hear that he clearly would never use it to defend himself if he had the choice.

Taking back the weapon, you cleaned the grip and loaded an arrow, muscle memory doing a splendid job into positioning yourself perfectly in a flawless shooting stance. A sigh of relief almost escaped your lips at the feeling of finally being adequately armed.

"Think it will hurt them more than our blasters?" Crosshair gave you some extra arrows he found laying around, still unconvinced that wood sticks with metal points could surpass their own advanced technology.

"We'll know it now."

You frowned, quickly grabbing an arrow to arm the bow, pulled on the string while aiming over the engineer's shoulder and suddenly released the tension on the string, scaring the shit out of Tech but hitting your target perfectly.

The Algax screeched as the arrow hit it right where its left eye would be, retracting its dangerous talons reaching for the goggled clone to grab at its face.

The troopers jumped at the unexpected screech, although they recovered in record time, turning around, blasters at the ready. They only had time to shoot at its already retreating form.

"Don't lose that." Hunter turned around, pointing at the bow in your hands. "Now let's go." He urged everyone forward.

Quickly, you grabbed the arrows in Crosshair's hand and stored them with the others.

As you took your position back at the front, a hand softly grazed the small of your back, by possessiveness or just to ensure that you were alright, you weren't entirely sure. But Hunter's gesture was very much welcome.

The bow was a game-changer. The weapon may not be able to kill them, but it could very easily gain you some time when needed.

Now, if luck could still stick by your sides, the next useful thing you'd find was a shelter.

In the following hour, you managed to scare away the next 3 Algax you encountered with a single arrow neatly shot between the hollows where their eyes should be and avoided another Kribat.

Apparently, these two species were the main population of these parts of the jungle, it was a two-edged knife. The boys got used to hiding around the environment and knew how to react properly at an Algax jumping on them out of nowhere, but you knew those weren't the only danger around. Would they react adequately when a new monster presented itself?

Tech changed his opinion on your weapon, affirming that he'll have to build one himself, more technological of course, improved like he said. You kicked his shin at the 'less-primitive' insinuation behind his words.

"It's a great weapon that deserves respect Tech." You reprimanded, arrow pointing to the ground and ready to engage if needed.

"It does need improvements!" He countered on the defensive and he proceeded to explain what he would do to add more strength to the bow, allowing it to shoot further and at a greater impact.

Just as Hunter shushed the engineer, you heard your name being whispered in the distance. Fear tensed your muscles in apprehension, expecting claws to tear at your skin any second now. Time went on without any foes jumping out of the shadows, prompting you to continue your route with the others, passing it for the wind or a trick of your mind.

That is until everything went downhill.

"Do you guys hear that?" Wrecker suddenly asked, immediately catching everyone's attention.

Silence followed, seconds after seconds passed in utter silence until, "That! Heard that?"

"No." Hunter stopped the group to ensure that they weren't missing something important.

"Wrecker, what is it? What do you hear?" A cold sweat ran down your spine, already knowing what he was going to say but praying otherwise. This couldn't be happening.

"It's 99." Even without knowing who was 99, you knew that it would end badly, there was too much raw worry in his voice to calm him down in so little time. "He's in danger Sarge!"

"No! Don't listen to it!" You jumped out to grab his armor, his hand, his blaster, anything really, not that your small muscles would have been able to stop the bear of a man anyway but your body thought it could.

He was unexpectedly fast for someone his size, easily dodging your hand to push through his brothers like they were nothing. He ran like a desperate man chasing a dream and it hit you like a punch to the face. This was exactly it. His most desperate dream finally came true to haunt him.

As you expected, the boys were on his tail in a heartbeat.

But as you ran after them, you realized that for a team comm that should be flooding in orders for Wrecker to stop and pleas for him to understand that this was a trick, it was dreadfully quiet.

Your blood froze in your veins as soon as realization dawned on you like a an ice cold bath.

They all believed it.

#bad batch x reader #tech x reader #crosshair x reader #wrecker x reader #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #star wars #clone wars #good night good luck #sergeant hunter #angst

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regicidal-defenestration · 4 years ago

Text

Victoria Died (and then some other things happened and we all got a bit distracted sorry about that Victoria)

A Death by Dying / Lost Cat Podcast crossover fic, because I think the Lost Cat narrator and Obituary Writer deserve to meet each other

[Lost Cat Narrator]

They say you have to go far away to realise what you had close by all along. They never did say exactly how far though…

[LCN]

“You need a holiday,” said Bojana.

“What.” I said, because it’s quite an odd topic to spring on a person like that.

“You need a holiday,” she said again. “I’ve booked us the plane tickets already.”

I didn’t say “what” again, because you can overdo these things. “I have work.”

“Your podcast?” Bojana asked, and she sounded unfairly incredulous.

“And make music,” I added. “And-”

Bojana stopped me. “You can do all that in America.”

America? I thought to myself. “America?” I asked out loud, with more emphasis. “I’m not going to America.”

“Yes you are,” Bojana said, and like that, it was sorted. We were off to America.

[LCN]

The sign cheerfully welcomed us to the small town of Crestfall, Idaho, and informed us that it had been 5 days since the last unexplained death.

“That isn’t very reassuring,” I said.

“It’ll be a local joke,” said Bojana, but she didn’t sound very sure. Unexplained deaths, it seems, are an international uniting factor. Fun!

We stayed staring at the sign for a few more moments, in case any more unexplained deaths happened whilst we were watching. And one did, technically, although we didn’t actually get to see anyone die, which was disappointing. A man pushed past us, felt tip in hand, and carefully crossed out the number 5 and replaced it with a 0.

He turned to us and frowned. “You’re new.”

This felt accusatory.

Bojana said: “Did you kill them?”, because Bojana is good at cutting to the point, whereas I am more used to using enough words to make a story seem long enough to be worth it.

The man didn’t answer, which was definitely worrying, because you would think it is easy to say whether or not you’re a murderer. He had a firm, steady gaze, the kind that seems to have an internal monologue behind it, just on the edge of hearing. An internal monologue that might have sounded something like:

[Obituary Writer]

Victoria was dead, to begin with.

She was dead afterwards too, but I think misquoting famous literature always helps set the mood.

Victoria was dead, to begin with, and when I went to update Crestfall’s Unexplained Deaths Board, there were two strangers there, staring at it. You can always tell who’s new here, because for some reason they all react to the Unexplained Deaths Board with the same concern.

I turned to them after changing the number, and introduced myself.

“I am the modest and handsomely dressed Obituary Writer of this little town called Crestfall. You must be new here, I can show you around if you want?”

I also took a moment to adjust my stance so that they could both hopefully see the enamel pin on my lapel, which is in the shape of a typewriter and coloured with the bisexual flag colours, because they both seemed friendly, and you never know.

The woman looked at me suspiciously. “Did you kill them?” she asked. Her eyes bore into me like she was trying to read the truth of my very soul, like if she just looked hard enough all the secrets of Victoria’s death would be laid out before her. It was the kind of stare that you can hear the internal monologue behind. An internal monologue, that might sound something like…

(the sound of howling wind. In the distance, a crow caws)

Only joking. It’s impossible to hear other people’s internal monologues, no matter what Dan the Fake Tarot Man who lives on the edge of town claims.

A crying shame.

“You’re taking a long time to answer that,” the man pointed out.

“I am merely investigating Victoria’s death,” I replied, sounding suitably serious about the whole matter. “If you would like, I can show you my current notes?”

The man frowned. “Why is an obituary writer investigating a death?” he muttered, more like he was speaking to himself than to me. However-

“Obituary Writer,” I corrected him.

A slight pause. “Yes? That’s what I said.”

“You called me an obituary writer, but I am the Obituary Writer." Ugh. Tourists.

The man and I held each other’s gazes. He seemed to be having an internal discussion with himself, perhaps even an argument.

Again - it really is a shame we cannot hear the thoughts and motives of others, don’t you think?

The silence stretched out long and sharp. I shifted. His eyes flicked down to my enamel badge. I looked slightly past his left ear. He looked up to a spot between my eyebrows.

"I’m Bojana,” said Bojana. “Can we see your notes?”

[LCN]

Currently, my life does not have a motto, but if it did, I might decide on “never follow someone back to their house when they have already talked, at length, about murder.”

“We’re going to die,” I whispered to Bojana.

“We might not be,“ she whispered back, unhelpfully. "Besides, we’re on holiday. Lighten up a bit.”

“Whilst searching for my cat, I have found all manner of things,” I whispered, although it was louder this time, and so more like a murmur. “Some of those things have been death, and some have been worse still, although I won’t go into those, since we are on holiday. The point is - I have no wish to be killed again.”

“You two aren’t very quiet whisperers,” the Obituary Writer called back, stopping in front of a door and rooting around in his pockets for a key.

“Besides, I’m not a murderer, and I find that accusation slightly offensive.”

Beckoning us to follow, he pushed the door open and disappeared inside.

I must admit: the house fit his whole aesthetic exactly. The curtains were a deep red, the carpets thick and shaggy, and there was, naturally, a typewriter, rather than a computer, left out on the dark oak table. There was another little pride flag in a skull-shaped mug, and on one wall hung a cork board that was covered in notes and red string.

“The house at Land’s End” read one note, which connected to another that said “The end of Land’s House???”, with three question marks, which is far too many for any normal person to use. Clearly, this job had put the Obituary Writer under large amounts of stress.

I went to read further when -

(the meow of a man-eating cat)

- my thoughts were interrupted.

He has a cat?

“You have a cat?” Bojana asked before I could. Damn.

[Obituary Writer]

The One Who Hunts wound himself between the man’s legs, purring.

“Three, actually. The One Who Hunts, The One Who Glares, and The One Who Sulks. They don’t eat people.”

My two guests didn’t take that last sentence quite how I thought they would. The man stopped his idle scratching between The One Who Hunts’ ears. Bojana took half a step towards the door.

“Okay, usually,” she began, “you don’t need to reassure someone that your cats won’t eat them.”

“But I like to reassure people.”

Bojana frowned. “I don’t feel reassured.” She looked over at her friend. “Do you feel reassured?”

“I got eaten by cats once, whilst searching for my own,” the man said, with a dramatic stare into the middle distance. “They ate my right hand and my left foot, then they ate my nose and my tongue. My ribs were gnawed and my heart-”

“Dude,” interrupted Bojana. “We’re on holiday, remember?”

The man held up his hands apologetically but I was keen to hear more. If he had truly been eaten alive by cats, then I, the Obituary Writer, wanted to write him a damn good obituary. And with all due respect to Victoria, who was a much loved member of the community and will be sorely missed by all - this was the most interesting thing to happen all week.

“No please,” I said, “go on. I might even write you an obituary.”

The man smiled- no- grinned.

“Well then. How about I tell you, over a glass of wine?”

(the narrator begins his song. It’s bittersweet, about missing cats, lost friends, and returning home at last)

[LCN]

When I finished telling my story, the Obituary Writer thought for a long time.

A long, long time.

“I think,” he said, at last, “you should meet my friend.”

[LCN]

Bojana said: “Dude.”

I said: “I know.”

Bojana repeated again: “Dude.”, a little more firmly.

I said: “I know.”

She pinched her arm. “Am I dreaming? I don’t think my imagination is good enough to make this up.”

“We’re going, on the insistence of someone who may well be a murderer, to see the Angel of Death, who is not, as it were, a metaphor, and who is, unlike her sibling, the Angel of Life, quite a nice person, apparently.”

Bojana sighed. “I was afraid you’d say that,” she said sadly.

“If this all turns out not to be a metaphor,” I took a deep breath, “I’d just like to say-”

“I’m not going to kill you,” someone interrupted with a voice like light refracted in glass.

We screamed, Bojana grabbing my shoulder and me grabbing her arm. When we realised what we had done, we stayed like that anyway, because sometimes the comfort of having another person is worth more than pretending to be cool.

The woman was beautiful in the way that wildflowers growing up and out of a sheep’s skull are beautiful. She was pale and almost translucent, with a pair of great wings of bone folded against her back. Her eyes were old and sad, and her dress fluttered in the breeze like moth wings.

The Angel of Death.

Bojana opened and shut her mouth a few times, trying and failing to find the words. “…dude,” she whispered at last, awe-struck. And then, slightly more worried - “Are you going to kill us?”

The Angel cocked her head at us curiously. “I just said I wasn’t. Besides, I do not kill people. Only Life kills people.”

I asked: “Can I use that line in my podcast?” and Bojana trod on my foot to get me to shut up.

The Angel ignored both of us, which was probably for the best. “Why have you come to see me?” she asked instead.

“Your friend is concerned about my friend,” Bojana said. “It was the bit about getting eaten by cats, I think.”

In the trees, a raven cried out. “Woeful are the lost and woeful are the found! Caw!”

You know, I never realised American ravens were so eloquent.

“They didn’t kill you though,” asked the Angel, in a way that wasn’t a question.

“I got better.”

“You bled out all over our nice carpet,” Bojana muttered.

The Angel of Death didn’t say anything and that was an answer enough.

“My cat is lost, and I miss it,” I began. “My search for it has lasted many years now, because I know that it isn’t dead. I have found people playing at being monsters and monsters playing at being people and I have found everyone else, who just sort of exist in the middle of those two states. I have been to strange places through strange portals and I have been to strange places like America, and, despite all, of this my cat is still lost.”

The wind blew through the trees, a dog barked in the distance, the world turned on and on. My cat, wherever it is, meowed.

The Angel looked at us with her sad eyes. “Why do you search for something forever out of reach, ignoring those around you? Your cat will return - all lost cats must show up somewhere.”

In a flurry of feathers, a raven settled on her shoulder. The light glinted off its eyes and I saw they were not eyes at all, but buttons. It cawed again as the Angel fed it a berry.

“Listen please: in life, death. In death, life. Enjoy it. Live a full, good life. It will make the wine taste better” She frowned for a moment. “Another person said those words before me, but I like them. Sometimes, it’s nice to have someone else tell you about what you already know.”

And then she was gone, fading away like smoke spreading out into the night sky.

Bojana let out a long, quiet whistle. “Do you think she’s single?”

#yes this fic has two narrators and sometimes they narrate the other person's speech what of it #death by dying #the lost cat podcast #writing #podcats (note spelling)#tumblr stop fucking with the formatting challenge

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amive2567 · 4 years ago

Text

See you again

Summary: Soulmates are the people that truly belong to us, but sometimes life is not grateful and we have to wait for a life where we can meet them again.

AUs: SoulmateAU ReincarnationAU ProHeroAU

Warnings: fluffier than the others, blood, medical talk, harassment at work, swearing, protective Todoroki

Disclaimer: My Hero Academia and the characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi.

Words: about 2.180

Quirk: Cell regeneration ~ This quirk allows healing somebody. The host can regenerate and strengthen the cells. Therefore the host needs to touch the person they want to heal. The quirk replaces the damaged cells with the healthy ones of the host. The new cells multiply on their own and heal the injury.

Malfunctions are that through extended usage, the host gets dizzy, receives nosebleeds, and their skin can get dry.

A/N : We are slowly getting towards the end of the story, although I separated the last part into two. It would have been way too long for one part. So here is Part 1. I hope you like it. Oh, I will also correct the parts after I have finished the series.

A/N 2: In Japanese, last names come before first names. So I wrote the names like this.

previous part: Third life: 1970 next part: ~ coming soon

Series masterlist

Grand masterlist

Annoyed, you pressed the alarm until it finally stopped ringing. "And another day that has to pass," you whined. Just like every morning, you got up and cleaned your bed. You opened the window and let the fresh air in. After you brushed your teeth, you headed straight to your desired breakfast stop.

You opened the door of your favorite café. When you moved here, it became a routine to eat in the small, cozy coffee shop near your workplace, also known as the hospital. Even with a high amount of customers, it was always quiet and welcoming. But this morning, it seemed like no one was there.

"Good morning, L/N-sama. What would you like to have for breakfast today?" greeted you, Watayama Tomomi, the owner of the comfortable café. "Good morning. The usual, please." You ordered. With a wide grin, she disappeared into the kitchen.

In less than five minutes, she came back with your beloved breakfast. "I already thought that you would order the same as always, so I prepared it for you. Luckily, as always, you were punctual. So it's still warm." She explained in response to your questioning look. "That's very generous of you. Thank you Watayama-San." "Oh, I was happy to do that for you." She waved it aside and went back to work.

As always, while breakfast, you took out your phone and read the news.

Bank robbery in Musutafu city center.

A bank robbery took place in Musutafu city center. Several million yen were stolen in the process. Some civilians got hurt. The pro heroes one and two were gladly in the area and arrested the villains immediately. Shouto and Deku have once again shown a magnificent performance in which they soon caught the bank robbers and handed them over to the police.

....

If you want to read on, please sign up for a subscription.

You put your phone aside and focused on your miso soup. You took a sip of the broth and felt the soup warming your stomach from the inside. No matter how hot it could be, miso soup for breakfast promised an excellent start for the day.

Your gaze went back to the news article and stooped at the hero name Shouto. It was oddly familiar, but you didn't know why. It was just a name like everyone else's. Why did it felt like home reading these five letters? Why did it felt so familiar? You didn't even know him, neither did you ever saw him. You never dealt with this whole hero thing. It was just a regular career like every other. Of course, you were thankful that they risked their lives for the safety of the people. But that created a lot of work for others.

Your pager went off, and you groaned. Emergency room, it said. "Watayama-San, I have to go. Could you pack my breakfast so I can take it with me tonight?" you yelled through the empty café to the kitchen. “I like to do it L/N-sama. Have a successful day at work." she wished. You grabbed your stuff and headed straight to the hospital.

After you changed your clothes, you went to the E.R. In there, hell was going on. Nurses ran around, doctors stormed in and healed patients like on an assembly line. "L/N-san. We need your help." screamed a voice inside your head. You couldn't see anyone who might have called you, so it could only be one person, your colleague Sera Keiko. Her quirk allowed her to speak non-verbally to people far away. It was very efficient to gossip about various colleagues during the breaks.

You opened the door to the trauma room. A carnage greeted you with a Sera dripping in blood. "What happened?" you asked as you put on some gloves. "The bank robbery this morning did not take place without victims. This week we don't have so many staff to be able to cope with the size," She explained and pressed more effectively on the unconscious patient's wound. "Alright. We need more blood. Can someone get it, please?" you ordered. An assistant nodded and ran to the blood bank.

You took over the patient by pressing your hands on his wound and activating your quirk. "Why does he pass out every now and then? Did he hid his head?" you asked curiously. "I think so. We couldn't ask him, and there is no visible wound," reported Sera. "Did you ordered a C.T?" She inclined her head, embarrassed. "Then do it now," you demanded, and she called the tomography department. You focused on your quirk, so it healed the wound as concisely as possible. Blue sparks swirled around the bloodied skin. You felt how the effects started to work on your body. It felt like the world started spinning, but you wouldn't stop until you were sure that the cells would connect. "At the moment, they have no opportunity to take new patients," informed Sera. "Alright, then we need our wonderful neurosurgeon, doctor Tanabe," you said sarcastically. Sera nodded and dialed the pager number.

How you haded this arrogant, good-looking surgeon. Some people called him Mc. Hottie. Gross, you thought. As like your thoughts had summoned him, the door swung open, and he entered the room. "What do we have here?" Tanabe asked. "The patient passes out every now and then. We couldn't get a C.T, so we need your opinion," you told him professionally. "Of course you can have my opinion, babe." he winked at you. You rolled your eyes. He was a good doctor, but nothing more.

You felt how the bloody wound under your hand started to heal itself, so you could remove your hands. "L/N-san, your nose is bleeding. Here you are." Sera handed you a handkerchief. You cleaned your nose and thanked her with a smile. "When you're done here. I would take over," said doctor Tanabe. "You can have him," you said bluntly. With a last wink, he left the room with his new patient.

"Oh, he is such a douchebag," you complained loudly. "We need to inform someone related to him. Could you hand me his medical record?" you asked. Sera nodded and gave you the documents. "Thanks," you mumbled. "Do you want to grab a drink tomorrow?" asked Sera. "I would love to," you responded with a beaming smile. Sera started to smile simultaneously.

The door opened, and two men entered the room. "Excuse us..." started an unknown voice. "Sir, you can't enter this room. It's staff only..." your voice dropped as you looked into a pair of grey and turquoise eyes. A wave of memories hit you.

“It’s unfair.” you sniffed. The young prince pulled you into a closer hug and stroked your h/c hair. “I know, but we will meet in another life. That’s how it is with soulmates or not?"

“I hope so.” Your lips meet, the tears from both of you make the soulful kiss taste salty.

Even if I don’t come home, I will always remain a part of your heart, and we will meet again in the next life, just as we always have promised. We will be able to hug each other again and won’t have to let go. My love for you will never die, even if my body does not survive this war, my soul will always be with you.

“It’s fine, Shouto, we will meet in the next life. We will have a family and live until death will do us apart.” You wiggled your hand free from underneath the stone. With your bloody hand, you stroked his cheek. His eyes were filled with fear.

"You can’t leave me. I need you. We wanted to live a happy and long life together.“ he cried.

You felt how hot tears streamed down your cheeks. "Shou..." you mumbled, overwhelmed. "Y/N." he answered, as surprised as you were. You were attracted to each other like magnets. The world around you faded as you hugged each other. "I missed you," you mumbled, your voice choked with happy tears. "I missed you too, darling." His lips met yours, and you returned the loving kiss. The lonely feeling you felt your whole life disappeared at this moment. "Err, Todoroki, we still need to know what happened to your sidekick." stuttered a voice behind the two of you. You broke away from each other, and your cheeks turned a light red tone.

"Your right Midoryia, I am sorry. I just found my soulmate again," he said bluntly. "Oh, I don't want to be rude, but we really have to get going." said the green-haired man. "Do you happen to know where Mayeda Nobuo is?" asked Todoroki. "Oh yes, he was my patient. I bet we can ask doctor Tanabe if you can visit him. He had a severe wound and has probably a head injury. I healed the wound as best as I could, but the head injury still remains. Doctor Tanabe is the best neurosurgeon in Musutafu, so your sidekick is in good hands." you explained to them. "See you, Miyako-san." You let the two pro-heroes know that they should follow you.

As you reached the reception of neurology, you asked for doctor Tanabe. "He is at the tomography department." the receptionist explained. "Dang this idiot...," you mumbled under your breath. "Thank you." She nodded and went back to her work. I bet he was flirting with Oshiro Tomiko, head of the C.T. department, for an appointment, you thought.

You walked to the tomography department with the other two. There was a long queue in front of the C.T. And as it couldn't be otherwise, your object of desire was first in line. "Doctor Tanabe," you called him out. "What's up, sweety?" he asked flirtatiously. You rolled with your eyes. "Those two men would like to know how your patient is doing," you said professionally. "Oh I don't know it yet, but after the C.T we will recognize what's wrong," he said and stood close to you.

"Is he your boyfriend?" growled Todoroki. His eyes were gleaming furiously. You didn't even get the chance to answer. "I wish they were, but unfortunately, they always reject me. I need to say their sweet but has something," confessed Tanabe. His arm laid on your lower back. You pushed him away. "What did you just say?" asked Todoroki with a snarl. He looked down at doctor Tanabe with an expression that gave you goosebumps. Never had you seen him that angry. "I said that their but is cute," repeated Tanabe fearlessly. Todoroki grabbed him by the collar. "Don't you ever say that to my love again, understood asshole? And don't you ever make them uncomfortable again." He let go of him and took your hand. "Thanks for your help doctor," Todoroki spat contemptuously.

"Let's go." He dragged you away with Midoryia. You were surprised by his behavior. He was always this calm, collected guy, and now he was jealous? "Todoroki-Kun, don't you think you took it a bit too far," Midoriya asked carefully. "No, he molested my soulmate. This guy should get behind bars." Todoroki snarled.

He stopped in the entry hall and turned to you. "I apologize for my harsh behavior, darling, but I've lost too much in this life, and I can't lose you again." "You won't lose me. Especially not to an arse like Tanabe. I will always love you. No matter what will happen." you assured him.

The three of you talked for a while, and you go to know that Midoryia soulmate was the girl in the pink and black dress. Her name is Uraraka Ochako. Fortunately, they met in high school and trained together to become heroes. "Wasn't she your wife the last time we met?" you asked confusedly. The memories were still a bit blurry. "Exactly."

"We have to go back to work. Unfortunately, due to this incident, we have to sign some documents." noticed Todoroki. "Then I won't hold you back any longer. Good luck at work." you wished the two pro-heroes.

"Oh, and that I won't forget. Shoto, we still have to exchange numbers." His face lit up, and he handed you a piece of paper. You smiled at the note and saw that the numbers were neatly written down. "You still write your number on a piece of paper?" asked Midoryia confusedly. "Strangely enough, many women want my phone number, so I write it down on paper for faster inquiries," he answered bluntly. Jealousy grew in your stomach, but you knew he was attractive, and many women took advantage of his social awkwardness. "They find you attractive, which is true, but they want to um... " You whispered the rest of the sentence in his ear. His cheeks turned beet red. "Er, well, I don't want that they do that. I need to tell them." he stuttered. "I think so too. So then, I will see you two around." The two of you shared a kiss before the two pro-heroes went back to work, and so did you.

#shoto x reader #see you again #kinda fluffy #mha x reader #mha #bnha #bnha x reader #pro hero au #pro hero shouto #pro hero izuku #soulmate au #Reincarnation AU

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tigerseye46 · 4 years ago

Text

House of Madness

Worked on some possessed Pigsy au stuff!

Warning: Possession, Forced Behavior, Pigsy is kinda yandere in this ngl

---------------------------------

Four days has passed since Pigsy took him to this place, this horrifying place. It’s all icy, the walls barren, he almost tripped the first time Pigsy took him to the castle, now it has long carpets in the hallways, possibly in some failed attempt to please Tang. Regret wells up in him, he should have seen the signs, he should have noticed when Pigsy began to change but he didn’t, not until it was too late and now Pigsy was possibly lost to them forever.

Tang sighs as he explores his prison, he’s tried to escape before but no matter what, Pigsy is one step ahead of him. The pig has left all sorts of traps to make sure Tang never leaves. He keeps an alarm that only he has the passcode to, if he gets the slightest idea that the scholar might leave, he’ll drop everything and come right on back even if he’s in the middle of a fight with Wukong. He stops at the mostly empty library that Pigsy set up, for now it is only filled with books from their apartment, the pig promises he’ll get more.

The scholar picks up a book, scanning the cover of it, he sighs again and sits on a chair, opening it. He questions if he should try again, maybe he’ll get lucky? He shakes his head, he’s never been particularly lucky, sure, he got lucky enough to be chosen to retrieve the scriptures but the ensuing journey was certainly not lucky. He ponders on what to do, so immersed in his thoughts that he gasps when arms wrap around his waist and a kiss is placed on his neck.

Pig-, not Pigsy whispers, “Hello, my love.”

Tang holds his breath for a second. “He-hello.”

“Somethin’ wrong, gorgeous?”

“N-no… you just startled me is all.”

Pigsy kisses his neck again. “You were so cute while readin’, I had to sneak up on ya.”

The Buddhist shivers at the contact. “O-oh…” He’s hoping that will be the end of it, it never is.

“What are ya readin’ anyway?”

“Hm? O-oh.” He looks at the cover again. “Something about adventure.”

“Haven’t been payin’ attention? Is my little freeloader distracted? What were ya thinkin’ about?”

Thinking of ways to get away from you, Tang wants to say but he holds his tongue. “Just something.”

“Were ya thinkin’ of me?

Tang pauses then answers, “Yes. Yes I was.”

The answer satisfies the pig and he kisses him on the lips. When Tang refuses to kiss back, the pig growls and pinches him, he opens his mouth in shock and Pigsy uses that as an opportunity to further the kiss, pressing him against his body. Tang kisses back reluctantly until Pigsy is satisfied and they separate, the Buddhist holds back tears.

“There, that wasn’t so hard now.” He rubs a thumb against Tang’s cheek. Tang mumbles something. “What was that, love?” He lifts his chin. “Speak up, I can’t hear ya.”

“N-nothing…”

“It didn’t sound like nothin’. I can barely understand a word that comes out from your pretty mouth that way. Now tell me what’s wrong. I can make it all better.” The smile he gives is unsettling, it’s like his icy blue eyes are trying to read into Tang’s soul.

Tang shoves him away. He shouts “You’re is what is wrong! Don’t you see it? You aren’t you! You’re possessed! The White Bone Spirit has taken control of your mind, fight it!”

Pigsy blinks for a few seconds, his eyes returns to their normal blue then he blinks again and the same icy blue appears. He grins madly and steps towards Tang, the Buddhist backs up until he hits a bookshelf, a few books fall off. Pigsy grips him by the waist and crowds over him. “Oh, sweetheart, what are ya talkin’ about? I’m completely in my right mind.”

The Buddhist scoffs. “Yea, right then tell me, what are we doing here? Why aren’t we in your noodle shop? Why aren’t we with the kids? How does none of this seem off to you?”

“Sweetheart, I think ya ask too many questions. We’re here because I’m gonna treat ya like the royalty ya are, I told ya that in the beginnin’, shame ya didn’t seem to hear me. And who needs that stupid shop anyway? Wouldn’t ya rather live in a place like this? You never have to do anythin’. The only reason our kids aren’t here is because that jackass has them. Don’t worry I’ll get them for ya.”

“Don’t you touch them!” He shouts. “You leave them alone! Don’t you dare a hair on my kids’ heads!”

“Our kids, love. Our kids,” he corrects. “I wouldn’t hurt them, ya know me. All I want to do is kill that monkey, he’s gettin’ in the way of our happy family. He tried to take you away from me but no longer.” He kisses Tang then whispers, “He won’t be a problem, we can be a happy family, just like I always wanted.”

“You leave him alone too!” He hisses and attempts to shove him again but the pig keeps him firmly against the bookcase.

The pig glares at him. “What?! Why?! Are ya in love with ‘im? Ya are, aren’t ya? I won’t let ‘im take you away from me! I’ll kill ‘im!”

“No! I’m not in love with him!”

“Really?! Because it seems as if ya are! I’ll go fight ‘im right now and get our kids then you’ll only love me!” He adjusts his crown and turns away from Tang, he’s decked out in ancient Chinese armor, his cape swishing a bit as he walks.

Tang ponders what to do, he can’t risk him fighting Wukong and his kids getting taken to this place. He grips Pigsy’s clothing and smooches him suddenly, the pig smooches back with eager intent. Tang’s heart thumps, this isn’t Pigsy but his mind is racing, he wants this, he wants Pigsy but he’s smart enough to know that this isn’t him and he’s only doing this so not Pigsy won’t capture his kids. He moves away from Pigsy and tries not to appear disgusted at the creepy grin the pig gives him.

Pigsy replies, “Wow! Passionate, aren’t ya?”

Tang blushes. “Qu- quiet.”

“No need to be embarrassed, doll. I think it’s rather cute.”

“Don’t call me doll!” His cheeks puff up.

“Awwww. What, don’t like that nickname? Don't worry, I have a thousand other things to call you.” He backs away to finally give Tang some room to breathe.

“Tch.” Tang narrows his eyes at him and he bends down to pick up the books littered on the floor, stacking them on top of each other, one is a translation of the Journey to the West. He holds it with one hand and as he’s about to put it with the others when Pigsy grabs his arm. The pig’s eyes observe the book. “Is something wrong?”

He takes the book from the Buddhist’s hands. “Want to read this.”

The Buddhist raises an eyebrow. “Why? You’ve never been interested in those stories before.”

“Well, love, there’s a lot ya don’t know about me.” He runs a hand on the Buddhist’s cheek and winks. “I can’t wait until I get Tripitaka here. Gods, he’s going to be beautiful, after I get him and our kids, everythin’ will be complete.”

Tang raises an eyebrow. He’s heard Pigsy comment about Tripitaka, him before. He hasn’t asked yet and he’s scared to ask. The comments paralyzed him. It was always something like “I can’t wait to go into Heaven and grab him,” “My gorgeous master, I’ll treat him like royalty,” “It would be great to have your idol here, wouldn’t it, love?” He still has no idea what the pig means and he knows he should try to figure out. Why is Pigsy planning on kidnapping him? Well, he’s already kidnapped him but the pig doesn’t know that. The only pig demon that Tang has ever been familiar with aside from Pigsy is Zhu Bajie. He sighs, he hasn’t seen Bajie in ages, the pig was and is his first love, he misses him and wishes he was here to save him. Pigsy is his second love, but Pigsy isn't Pigsy and he’s trapped and Tang needs to get out yet he wants information on why he wants Tripitaka so bad, curiosity is burning into him.

“Pigsy?”

Pigsy purrs. “Yes, love?”

“Um… why do you want Tripitaka?”

“Don’t be jealous, babe.”

“I’m not!”

“You’re both equals in my heart. He’s beautiful just like ya are, how could I not want him?”

“What? You don’t even know him.”

“I know him, doll but relax your pretty, little head. No need to be jealous.”

“Don’t call me doll,” he repeats.

Pigsy smirks and plants a kiss on his cheek. “Why not?”

“Because I’m not a toy!”

“You’re right, ya aren’t. You’re more like royalty, although I could treat ya like a doll if you want.”

“Shut up.”

Pigsy narrows his eyes at him and roughly pulls his chin up. “Now babe, it’s rude to tell your future husband to shut up.” The pig’s blue eyes glow as he says this, it makes Tang shiver, the chef’s fingers are cold like they have been for some time. His blue eyes glow brighter. “Never tell me to shut up again, got it?”

Tang nods reluctantly. “Got it.” Pigsy smiles and lets go of his chin. Tang puts the rest of the books back and as he finishes, Pigsy lifts him into the air. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Almost supper time. I should treat ya like the king or queen ya are and escort you myself,” he replies and walks Tang to his dining room, book still in the pig’s hands as he takes him.

They arrive at the dining hall, the pig gently lets him down and pulls out a large throne meant for Tang. He silently commands for him to sit down, Tang glares but he knows better to disobey, he sits down reluctantly then the pig pushes it slightly.

Pigsy kisses his cheek. “Any preference on dinner, love?”

“No…”

“Alright, I’ll make ya somethin’ then we can chat and have some fun later,” he purrs. He places the book on the table and saunters off.

Tang grabs the book from the wooden table, he stares at it, he wants his disciples, he needs his disciples to rescue him, he doesn’t know where Bajie or Wujing are but he hopes they know what’s happening, he hopes there’s a plan to rescue him. He presses the book against his chest, he misses them, it’s been so long since he’s last seen them. He’s all alone and he has no one to rescue him this time, he has to be smart, the kidnappings have made him smart.

Tang ponders on the information he’s gathered. Pigsy doesn’t want to eat Tripitaka, well him so that’s good at least. His heart thumps at the reason the pig took him to this place, he hadn’t realized that Pigsy was in love with him, how long had the pig been keeping it in? He does love Pigsy, the real Pigsy and he wants to be with him, not until he’s freed, until they’re both freed.

The Buddhist knows he’ll have to comply with what the pig says, get him to lower his guard down then escape when he has the chance. He knows Pigsy doesn’t want to hurt him, he just wants the scholar to be his, he can deal with it, it won’t be too bad, right? All he needs to do is find a way to get out and get rid of the White Bone Spirit. He prays the group finds a way to rescue him and Pigsy. He moves the book away from his chest and flips to a page. The memories of his disciples and their journey flood back to him, they were always there to keep him safe but they weren’t here and he had to fend for himself.

Tears fall from his eyes as he reminisces, the cold air of the castle sweeps through him and he shivers. He leans back into his wooden throne, he’s thankful it’s not made of ice unlike that throne Pigsy makes him sit in constantly. He twists the bracelet around his wrist that he was forced to wear, pulling the collar of his tight outfit, he hates it, it isn’t him, it isn’t comfortable like his old cassock or his current outfit. He’s practically a doll for Pigsy to dress up and play with, he can’t bring himself to hate the pig for it, he knows he isn’t in his right mind.

He hears the doors swing open and he shuts his eyes. He hears multiple plates being set on the table. Pigsy places a thumb under his eye, he shudders at the contact. “Love,” The pig starts. “Why are ya cryin’?”

Tang sniffles and wipes his tears with his hands. “Oh I didn’t realize. It’s nothing.”

The Buddhist opens his eyes when the pig runs a hand through his face, Pigsy is down on his knees. A soft look is on his face, it’s almost like he’s him again. “It’s not nothin’. You are my queen.” Tang rolls his eyes at the queen part as more tears roll down his face. “You deserve to be happy. What’s wrong?” He wants to tell Pigsy everything, he wants to open up to him, hug him, kiss him but this isn’t Pigsy and he continues sobbing. “Hey,” he whispers. “Ya don’t have to be sad. I’ll take care of ya, I promise.” He presses a kiss to the back of Tang’s hand and gets rid of his tears.

Tang observes him and smooches his cheek, the demon purrs and the scholar can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. He plants another kiss and enjoys the other purrs that come out of the demon. The pig has a lovestruck look on his face and Tang lets out a laugh. “I don’t doubt that. I’m fine now that you’re taking care of me.”

Pigsy kisses him on the forehead and he turns red. “Okay but if anythin’ is botherin’ ya, you tell me. I hate seein’ ya upset. You deserve to be happy.”

The monk beams. “Thank you.”

Pigsy nods and sits in the throne right beside him. He holds the monk’s hand in his, Tang rests a head on his shoulder, for a moment he can pretend everything is fine. He blushes more when the pig places a kiss to his lips and feeds him, whispering gentle promises of love into his ear. Tang playfully pushes him away at one point when the pig uses a cheesy pick up line.

“My love,” Pigsy purrs.

Tang rolls his eyes and asks “Yes?”

“Have I ever told ya how beautiful you are?”

“Oh, only about a dozen times now. Although I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Good cause I’ll tell ya as many times as I want.”

“Wow, that almost sounds intimidating. Should I be scared?”

“Just tellin’ the truth, dear.” He winks as he feeds Tang again.

Tang accepts it and basks in their little domestic moment. “Do you ever run out of names to call me?”

“Nope,” he replies. “I got a thousand in my head just for ya.”

“I feel special,” he jokes as he chews on another spoonful.

“As ya should, you’re mine after all.”

Tang frowns for a second. Something about that statement makes him snap out of it. A pit of guilt forms in his stomach, he feels as if he’s taking advantage of Pigsy. The pig looks at him in worry and he has to look away because he can’t give in, no matter how many times he acts like Pigsy, he has to turn him away.

The demon puts a hand under his chin to force the human to stare at him. The icy blue orbs quickly remind him of the possession, he bites his lip to prevent sobs from slipping past his lips. The demon furrows his eyebrows and Tang sends him a fake reassuring smile, Pigsy nods and continues feeding him.

After dinner, the pig carries him to their room with the book of the journey still with them. The pig throws pick up line after pick up line at Tang while examining the book, he tries to scoot away but the arm wrapped around his waist pulls him in closer.

Tang groans when another line is thrown at him. “You know you could do better than cheesy pick up lines.”

Pigsy snarks, “Sometimes they work, I have other lines, just don’t know if you’re ready for that.” Tang huffs and leans against his shoulder. “Don’t worry, honey, we got time.”

“Time? Time for what?”

“For me to shower ya with as many compliments as there is. We have a lot of time.”

“Oh, great. How wonderful,” he replies, sarcasm present in his voice but Pigsy thinks it’s sincere and gives him a peck on the side of his head.

“So rose, do ya want to pay me a compliment back?” He winks, the scholar rolls his eyes and scoffs. The demon pinches his waist and he lets out a yelp, the demon’s eyes glow blue as they always do when he gets even the slightest bit angry or annoyed. “Well, do ya?”

Tang freezes and takes deep breaths, he reminds himself that he has to get the pig to lower his guard down. As he cups the pig’s face, he trembles and touches his forehead with his, the other’s eyes dilate. “Yes… ummm… well… it’s embarrassing to say…”

“Come on, babe. Any word that comes out of your mouth is stunnin’. Just say it.” Tang’s heart thumps at the compliment.

“Well…” he taps his chin. “I love that you cook for me and never threw me out of your shop despite my unwillingness to pay. You care about me despite your gruffness…. And umm… yea.”

The demon purrs and kisses him a whole bunch. “See, love, absolutely stunnin’.”

“Thanks…”

“I think that’s enough readin’ for tonight, babe. Readin’ this book bring back old memories of my journey.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell ya later. Let’s go to bed, can’t wait for ya to try on the other outfit I picked for you.”

“Great…”

Pigsy kisses him and gives him the silky pajamas he chose, thankfully for Tang they are more comfortable than his earlier clothes. Pigsy places his own crown to the side and gets into a better outfit. He snuggles up to the scholar, the demon rumbles, Tang tries not to coo on how cute this would be in normal circumstances. He adjusts himself so he is facing away from Pigsy, the demon whispers sweet nothings.

Hours pass and Pigsy is snoring into his ear, Tang’s eyes droop and he looks at the bedside clock that the pig set up, it is now 3 am. Tang wriggles out of the pig’s grasp, he grabs a robe set aside on a chair, and puts it on. He tiptoes out of the room, once he’s farther enough, he bolts, he’ll have his escape tonight, nothing will stop him.

He tries not to slip on the carpet as he dashes, he quivers at the air and wraps the robe around himself tighter. Despite the castle only having the two of them, it is humongous, he can barely wrap his head around it. He finds the icy stairs and grabs the railing, carefully walking down so he makes he doesn’t trip. He would tell Pigsy next time to cover the stairs with carpet or something, if there was going to be a next time that is.

Tang smirks to himself and finds the front door of the palace, that would be too obvious. He searches around for another exit, he finds a window and tries desperately to thrust it open but he’s too weak. He scrambles around for another exit, his heart beats fast, he’s terrified of Pigsy waking up.

There’s a door leading to the back entrance of the palace, does he risk it? He nods to himself, the door has no traps around it, if he’s quick enough he can run before the alarm sounds. He’s about to open the door when arms are placed on his waist and a figure rests a head on top of his own, his heart stops.

“Sweetie…” he hears a growl. “What are ya doin’ up? I’ll give ya one chance to explain yourself.”

He gasps and turns to face Pigsy, his eyes light up the darkness. “Ummm… well… I was looking for something to eat. I’m kinda hungry…”

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” He shouts, his hands balled into fists, Tang flinches. “Ya were tryin’ to escape!”

“N-no! I-!”

“Yes you were! Don’t lie!” Pigsy slams a wall with his fist. “Your mine, ya hear?! MINE!”

Tang swallows and backs up slowly, the pig is huffing out of anger, his fist still against the wall he punched. The Buddhist trembles, he’s regretting trying to run now, but a part of him wants to flee to escape Pigsy’s anger. When the demon turns, still with an angry expression, Tang feels goosebumps on his arms. The demon quickly lets go of his frustration and leans down to cup the scholar’s face. He smiles but Tang is trembling, scared out of his mind and crying, the pig’s cold fingers and dark smile made everything worse.

Pigsy plants a kiss on his forehead. “I know you’re just confused. It’s okay. That monkey has poisoned your mind. I know ya want to be mine, ya just have been brainwashed.”

Tang gasps, “I… I…”

Pigsy shushes him. “It’s okay. We’ll be happy soon enough. I won’t let that monkey manipulate ya the same way he did master.”

“Wh-what?”

“Hm? I just said I wasn’t gonna let ya be brainwashed. Jeez, love bug, you’re supposed to be the smart one, although ya haven’t been actin’ so smart recently.” The pig let out a chuckle.

The Buddhist rolls his eyes. He thought to himself, Pigsy had said “master,” Tang remembers when he use to go by master... wait… was he talking about Tripitaka? “No, not that! It’s just… you said something about your master? I wasn’t aware you had one.”

“As I said, there’s a lot ya don’t know about me.”

“Like?”

“Now, babe, ya disobeyed me, don’t think ya have a right to know that information just yet.” Tang narrows his eyes, if he’s staying here, he needs information, he’s shaking but he needs to be smart. He pouts and gives the pig his best puppy eyes, the pig’s ears droop at the pout. “What’s wrong?”

Tang wipes the tears left over from his fear, trying to make it seem as if he’s upset that the possessed demon refuses to tell him anything. “Well… it’s just…” he fake sniffles. “You refuse to tell me anything. I want to know more about you. I want to know what it was like before we met but you’re so secretive!” He covers his face with his hands and smirks when he hears Pigsy let out a whimper and attempt to pull Tang’s hands away to look at him. Tang wipes more fake tears.

“Hey…. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep secrets from ya, I didn’t want to tell ya and have you get jealous!”

The Buddhist hides his smirk, he has him in his grasp. He stomps his feet for good measure and takes a step back angrily when the pig attempts to pat him in reassurance. “Well you talk about Tripitaka all the time! You never tell me why, how are you so sure I’m not jealous now?!”

“Babe…”

“Don’t “babe” me!” He sniffles again. “I thought you didn’t care about me… I want to stay with you,” he lies through his teeth, “but you won’t say anything. How am I suppose to take that?”

Pigsy frowns and shrinks back to his normal size. “I’m sorry… I’ll tell ya whatever it is you want.”

He shows him a fake smile. “Thank you.”

“But never run away from me like that again, okay?”

Shivers shoot up Tang’s spine and he nods. “Okay…”

“Good. Now let’s take ya back to bed then I’ll tell ya all ya want to know.” He carries the monk back to their bed, the monk sits up on the bed. “So what do ya want to ask first?”

“Ummm… so you used to have a master?”

“Yep, I was his disciple, we used to go on a lot of adventures together, most of which you have read about.”

“Really? Because I would remember that.”

Pigsy grabs the book from his bedside table and holds it up. “Yes ya have. It’s all written here, most of it anyway.”

Tang’s eyes widen and he snatches the book from the demon’s hand. He scans it because the demon must be joking, he leans against the bed frame. “But this is about the Journey to the West…”

“Yea, told ya that you have read most of it.”

The gears in Tang’s mind spin as he tries to uncover the pig’s words. Master… Tripitaka… mentions knowing him…. a pig demon… no… no, no, NO! All the clues clicked but he doesn’t want to believe it. It can’t be, Tang is praying that he isn’t who he thinks he is. “Wait… are you- are you saying that your….” He trails off, he can’t finish his sentence.

“That I’m the Zhu Bajie? Yes, I am, doll. Told ya I knew Tripitaka, he’s my gorgeous master. Took you awhile to figure that out.”

“Are you- are you serious? Please tell me you’re joking!” Gods no, he can’t be Bajie! That would mean… that would mean his Bajie, his first love is also his second love and has been with him the entire and he never knew. He can’t be Bajie… his disciple who he’s longed to reunite with has been with him. A feeling of dread washes over him and he wants to laugh and to scream, Pigsy’s face is completely serious.

“Why would I be jokin’ about this? I’m Zhu Bajie. It’s impressive, huh?”

Tang feels his eyes water. The rake… the talk about Tripitaka… everything points to him being Zhu Bajie. “Ye- yea… impressive.” He thought it was a coincidence, he thought he would never see them again. He fixates his gaze at the book in his hands.

Was Pigsy ever planning on telling him? Does this mean Sandy is Sha Wujing? His two disciples were going to fight their brother… this can’t be. Did Pig- Did Bajie love him? Love him back when he was Tripitaka? He always loved the pig, no matter what and… wow… This was the worst way to find out.

Sobs escaped from his lips, his whole body shook and Pigsy wraps his arms around him in an attempt to comfort him. Tang gasps and stares at the book of his, of their journey.

Bajie kisses the side of his head. “Awwww, babe, are ya cryin’?” Tang nods, he can’t look at the pig. “Ya don’t need to cry, I know how great I am but you’re even greater, just like Tripitaka is, I can’t wait to see him.” At the mention of his old name, he sobs louder. “Huh? Babe, don’t worry, you’re both equals. I won’t let ya or him get jealous. I’ll love you both forever and you’ll never be able to escape me.”

As he stares up at the pig’s eyes, it hits him, he’s trapped in a house of madness.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #freenoodleshipping #dark freenoodleshipping #pigsy monkie kid #Pigsy #tang #possessed Pigsy au #my fic #poor tang #this is the worst way to reunite

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writer-k-pop · 4 years ago

Text

The Chef (k.m.g) - Waning Crescent Hotel

Please read this (W.C.Hotel) if you this is the first post of this series that you see. Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of death Genre: Angst, Hotel Del Luna AU, Choose your own adventure, SVT x Fem! Reader Staff: Yong (Spirit General Manager) / Jiwoo (Human General Manager) / Soon Bok (Room Manager) / Mun Hee (Front Desk Receptionist) / Shin (Grim Reaper assigned to Waning Crescent) Word Count: Ending A - 4.2k / Ending B - 3.9k

W.C.Hotel | Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

"The pool is going to be cleaned tonight. And Jiwoo said that some of the lights should be changed out." Yong informs me as I watch Mingyu from above.

I silently nod and tilt my head as Mingyu dramatically adjust his long coat before sitting on one of the lobby couches.

Yong chuckles, "You're staring."

I blink and look at other places in the lobby, avoiding the fact that I got caught. "The others will never know about this." I threaten even though I know she would never leak that kind of information unless I wanted it.

"They will stay in the dark. As always." Yong gives a single nod.

"Don't say that. That makes it sound like I never talk to my staff." I whine, pouting.

Yong shrugs, "Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one you actually talk to."

I lean against the railing, "That's not true. I talk to others."

"Mun Hee and Soon Bok and Jiwoo don't count." Yong corrects me, "They're the heads of their departments. They have to talk to you."

I purse my lips and search for other employees I talk to. "Well, there's was, no they didn't talk to me."

Yong pats my shoulder, "It's okay. You technically don't need to talk to everyone."

I stand up straight and flick my hair behind my shoulders, "Exactly. And more people should come and talk to me. I'm the freaking CEO after all."

"Yes, yes you are." Yong comforts me with a small smile. But just a really small one.

"How many days?" I ask, running my hands through my hair.

"Four." Yong answers.

"Room?" I wonder.

"64." She says after scanning her lists.

"(y/n)." Mun Hee quietly calls my name from behind us.

"What?" I ask, bored, and turn around to face him.

"There's, there's a guest at the front desk who would like to talk to you." Mun Hee says with his hand folded politely in front of him.

"Who?" I wonder because I never get guests. I'm me after all.

"They asked me not to say anything to you. Just to bring you." He repeats his instructions.

"Who gave you those directions?" I question and walk down the stairs with Mun Hee following. Yong walks away to finish the rest of her duties. "Why are you taking orders from other people?"

"She was very persuading." Mun Hee answers simply.

As we pass by Mingyu, our gazes meet briefly. He smiles politely and nods his head. I, awkwardly, nod back before turning my attention back to Mun Hee.

"Don't do it again, alright?" I point a finger at him. "You only take orders from me."

Mun Hee nods with large motions. "Only from you."

I push open the doors and stand face to face with Jang Man Wol, the former CEO of Hotel Del Luna.

"(y/n)." She smiles but it never reaches her eyes. Typical.

"Man Wol." I greet her similarly but without the smile, having to fight down the swell of jealousy in my gut. "Don't tell me you're checking into my hotel?" Mun Hee returns to his spot behind the front desk.

Man Wol shakes her head and holds out her hand, palm facing upwards so I can read it. "No, it seems I still have quite a few lives left."

I scoff, "Of course the Gods would give you 8 more." I roll my eyes.

"Trust me, I don't want them." Man Wol gives me a knowing look. "But that's not why I'm here."

"Here to rub your transfer into my face in person?" I guess at her real reason for arriving at my hotel's doors.

"If I did that, Chansung would never take me out to eat again." Man Wol pouts angrily before taking in a breath to reset. "The CEO of Hotel Blue Moon told me you're leaving soon."

"How does he know that?" I throw my hands up, "How does he KNOW that?" This time I turn to Mun Hee who just raises his hands and shrugs.

"Word travels fast, (y/n)." Man Wol says, "Everything in this world travels stupidly fast."

I shake my head. "Alright, so you know I'll be leaving my position soon. What about it?"

"Just wanted to give you some advice." Man Wol smirks.

I sigh, "Tell me, I don't have all night." I start getting annoyed that she is dragging out the conversation that could've been done five minutes ago.

"You have enough time." Man Wol pushes my shoulder, "You don't have a finicky tree that blooms and withers whenever the hell it wants."

"My tree is as dead as my soul." I cross my arms over my chest, "And as dead as this conversation."

Man Wol twists her lips in annoyance and she mirrors my posture. "I don't have to give you the advice if you don't want it?"

"As long as it's not some silly cliche." I banter back.

Mun Hee cautiously moves closer to us and we both give him an annoyed look.

"We're not gonna." We both say at the same time.

Mun Hee raises his hands in surrender. "Just making sure."

Man Wol turns back to face me, "Just don't waste any time and don't piss off the Gods." She says before swiftly turning towards the front doors.

"You're advice is common sense knowledge?" I call out after her.

Man Wol doesn't turn around but raises a single hand in a sort of wave. She exits out the front doors without another word and lets the doors slam behind her.

Next to me, Mun Hee flinches at the loud sound.

I let out a puff of air, "Don't piss off the Gods. Psh. What do you think I've been trying to do for hundreds of years?!" I yell at the doors that sealed her exit.

"What are you doing here?" Jiwoo walks through the front doors at that exact moment. He looks surprised that I would be standing in the reception area.

"Jang Man Wol just visited." Mun Hee answers for me since I'm still pouting.

"CEO Jang Man Wol?" Jiwoo questions, "Like Hotel Del Luna Jang Man Wol?"

"Yes. That one." I tell Jiwoo with a straight face. "She came to give me 'advice' but basically told me common sense stuff and I just- I'm going to need six champagne bottles to forget that shit."

I turn back towards the hotel and leave the two males to their business. Walking through the lobby, I avoid the guests as they mill around as I make my way towards the elevators.

"We should spend the day at the pool." A woman says as she passes by me with another female.

"If we do, do you promise that we can order what I want for dinner?" The other female wonders.

The first female scoffs, "Fine."

I continue to walk past but turn my head to follow them for a little. A little seed of desire for friendships sprouts and distracts me from the awful advice Man Wol gave me.

"Oh, I'm sorry." Mingyu's voice apologizes as he bumps into me.

His steadying hands on my shoulders breaks me out of my thoughts and I look to the tall giant I used to call mine.

"No, no, my bad." I stutter and step back, "I should've watched where I was going."

"You probably have a lot on your mind." Mingyu says with a sweet smile.

I scrunch my eyebrows at him, "Why would I have a lot on my mind?" I question him.

Mingyu scratches the back of his neck nervously, "You are the CEO, aren't you?" He asks, "I assumed you were since everyone respects you and you dress differently than everyone. So I assumed you would have a lot to think about when running such a cool hotel." He glances around the lobby in awe.

My mouth drops open realizing he hadn't heard my reception encounter. "Uh, yes, I do have a lot to think about being the CEO and all." I half smile.

"Well, you must be busy so I'll leave you be." Mingyu bows then walks away.

I sigh and repeat the duration of his stay. "Four days. Four days."

~The Fourth Day~

I sign the last leave approval for the guests that are leaving tomorrow and lean back in my chair. Closing the folder, I stack it on top of the other 8. I reach for my coffee cup and carefully sip from it.

Looking around my quiet office, I suddenly get tired of the space and decide to deliver the forms to Yong or Jiwoo myself. I scoop up the folders and make my way out of the office.

But just as I reach the doors, Jiwoo opens them first.

"Oh, hey." Jiwoo greets me then eyes the folders in my hands. "I was just coming to get those."

"I was just about to deliver them to you." I hand them over, a little sad that my distraction ended so quickly.

Jiwoo takes the folders into his hands but stops me from moving away by saying, "Oh, also, Mun Hee brought Mingyu down a few minutes ago. I was assigned to inform you."

I sigh in relief that I won't have to sit around bored out of my mind. "Let's go."

"You approved all of them, I assume?" Jiwoo glances down at the folders in his hands.

I chuckle, "What other option did I have?" I ask. "I can't let them stay here. And I can't exactly kick them out."

Jiwoo also chuckles, "Just makin' sure."

"How many leave today?" I ask as we ride the elevator down.

"10." Jiwoo answers, "3 guests have already left so we've got 7 more to go."

"Will you be okay?" I wonder, a sudden burst of concern appearing.

"Yeah, we'll be fine." Jiwoo says, "Just go do your thing. And we'll do ours."

The burst of concern disappears as quickly as it appeared, "Alright cool."

The elevator doors open and Jiwoo smirks, "We always do fine." He mentions before walking out of the elevator and towards his office.

"Have you ever been to Italy?" I follow Mingyu's excited voice to my garden, "They have the best and I mean the best pasta I have ever eaten. And the views? Ah, spectacular."

When I reach the garden, Mingyu is animatedly talking to Mun Hee, who seems to be searching for a way out. I cover my mouth to hide the smile on my face.

"I wish I would've taken (y/n) there." Mingyu continues and my amusement diminishes, "She said she couldn't travel. Something about her family. But now I know that's a lie." Mingyu rocks back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, "But I still wish I could've taken her."

"I don't need to travel." I say, announcing myself.

Mingyu whips around, eyes big with surprise. A wave of relief washes over Mun Hee's face and he silently bids his goodbyes before leaving the two of us alone.

"You should." Mingyu tilts his head to the side as if he's giving me life advice.

I shrug. "Can't."

"Won't." Mingyu corrects me and I walk to the front of the bench.

I point to the bare tree in front of us, "Can't." I repeat then sit down.

"So it was this tree's fault you always turned me down to travel?" Mingyu questions, sitting next to me with an arm draped over the back of the bench.

I nod, "That and my own fault."

"Oh, yeah. That." Mingyu looks down at his lap.

I grasp my hands together in my own lap and stick out my legs as my lips press together.

"The other day..." Mingyu says, "Sorry for bumping into you like that. Wasn't the grand reunion I had planned."

I look over at him and smile at his embarrassment. "I'm pretty sure the entire incident was my fault. But now I'm curious." I raise my eyebrows, "What kind of grand reunion did you have planned?"

Mingyu chuckles, "Nothing special. And certainly nothing I expected to have in the afterlife."

"You thought I would come back?" I wonder, catching onto his reference.

He nods, "For a few years I did. Then it became a hope that I buried but every now and then it would pop up."

I lean into him and he instinctively wraps his arm around me.

"I was going to find you and make an elaborate and huge menu for you." Mingyu continues, "I was going to cook all your favorite foods and some new ones that I'd learned over the years. Then I was going to send you an invitation to this private dinner and boom, we'd have dinner together and then I was going to convince you to stay with me." He sighs, "But that day never came."

"I'm sorry." I apologize and my shoulders fall slightly.

Mingyu chuckles, "Don't be." He sighs and gazes at the bare tree, "I'll just blame the tree for you not returning."

"It's not the trees fault that I screwed up." I pull my hair over my shoulder. "But if that makes it better. Then by all means..." I don't finish but gesture towards the tree.

"Does it have a name?" Mingyu asks, his eyes running from the top of the tree down to the bottom where the white chrysanthemums stand.

I bark out a laugh, "You think I would name it?"

Mingyu smiles slightly bewildered, "Is it that weird?"

"Who names the thing keeps them locked in a prison?" I question, sitting back and cross my arms.

Mingyu shrugs, "It still should get a name, shouldn't it? I mean it's been stuck with you for hundreds of years. What do you even call it when you see it?"

I set my lips in a straight line, "Hell, bastard, damned asshole."

"Okay, I get it. I get it." Mingyu raises his hands in surrender. He then sighs and lowers his arms. "I missed you."

My lip pucker in sadness, "I did too."

"Did you ever think about coming back?" He asks.

"A few times." I answer, "But I was always stopped at the front door."

"Should I go break down the door?" Mingyu jokes with a smile.

I giggle, "Well, there's no reason for any of that now is there?"

"No, but I'll still do it." Mingyu shrugs.

"Well, thank you for the offer, but I don't think that'll be necessary." I tell him with a pat on the shoulder, "Plus, I don't think we should be destroying the decor here. I do want to leave this place."

Mingyu nudges my shoulder with his, "Alright, I won't, I won't."

I give him a pressed smile. Without a word, I lean over and rest my head on his shoulder. Mingyu doesn't flinch but scoots closer and leans his head on top of mine.

"So you've only been here? In the hotel?" He wonders and grabs my hand tightly.

I nod, "Here in the hotel. Watching people come and go. Why?"

"Just wondering what you were doing while I was traveling the world." Mingyu explains.

"Where did you go?" I ask, my interest piquing.

"Where didn't I go." Mingyu chuckles. "I traveled everywhere and learned so much about so many new things."

I let out a puff of air, "Could you be any less vague?"

Mingyu squeeze my hand, "Sorry, sorry. Since I went so many places, I'll just tell you about the most memorable ones."

"Start with your favorite." I request.

Mingyu thinks silently for a second, "My favorite?" He mumbles thoughtfully, "They're all my favorite."

I roll my eyes.

"But the most memorable would've been the time I tried to get into pastries. Specifically the macarons." Mingyu recalls and my mouth drops open slightly, "Yeah, it was bad."

"How bad?" I egg him on.

"Like everything always overflowed or was too runny or never cooked." Mingyu explains and I laugh, "I swear I could never get it right. It was always too delicate for my ... crazy hands." He wiggles his fingers. "Like once I piped them out onto the sheet in their nice little circles but five minutes later, all the circles were touching. And then another time, I piped them and they didn't run. But when we took them out of the oven, they had like exploded while they baked. None of them were usable."

I try to imagine the incidents but all I can imagine is Mingyu's face of utter disbelief which makes me laugh.

"The pastry chef and I pretty much both gave up after the fifth failed day." Mingyu says with a chuckle, "She was cool though. Laughed with me when things went haywire."

"What other pastries did you try?" I ask.

"None." Mingyu laughs, "But I baked other things, breads and cakes, the more dense stuff."

My senses fill with the warmth and nutty scents of freshly baked bread, "Those must've been fun."

Mingyu nodds, "I liked how the bread dough felt under my hands. It was sturdy-ish like a knife but without the sharp edges and clean cuts. I could shape it and feel every part of it."

I hum in understanding and turn his arm over in my hands. My hand runs over the shadow of the burn scar on the underside of his forearm, a commonality between chefs.

"You still enjoy champagne?" Mingyu wonders.

"Most definitely." I answer.

Mingyu chuckles, "I thought so. You know, I went to a champagne tasting thing once."

"That would've been the most beautiful thing in the world." I say wishing I could've gone.

"You would've thought so." Mingyu agrees, "I wasn't the biggest champagne lover but during it, I kept thinking about the ones you would like. I even wrote the names down so I wouldn't forget them. But I lost the list when my restaurant caught fire." He finishes sadly.

My heart grows heavy as I remember sitting and seeing the news report of what had happened. It was over a year after I left him and the report had said it was faulty wiring that had heated up and caught fire. The amount of fear and sadness I felt was nothing compared to the relief that washed over me when they reported no injuries or deaths. But the location was the first one he'd ever opened and it was special to him.

"I heard about that." I tell him.

"You heard?" He repeats, surprised.

"I did. Through the news." I explain, "I wanted to fight the Gods myself until I read that no one had died."

"You were going to fight the Gods if I had died?" Mingyu asks, his amusement laced in his tone.

"I was." I confirm, "I fought with Yong about it for brief seconds."

Mingyu wraps me up in a tight hug and rocks side to side, "That's probably the most adorable thing anyone has ever said to me."

When I hear the word 'adorable,' my face drops, "I am not adorable." I say and try to wiggle out but Mings his grip tightens, "I am a cursed soul who should be feared by all people from all the corners of the world."

"Uh huh." Mingyu responds, unconvinced.

I blow out a breath and give up fighting against his grip. "Still not adorable."

Mingyu's chest vibrates with a laugh, "Still very adorable."

For the subsequent hours, we talk about his successful restaurants and the not so successful ones, his travels to different countries to learn different cuisines from the tops chefs there, the people I knew at his restaurants as well as the ones that came afterward. His face floods with love when he talks about his family and my heart swells with happiness knowing that he was well loved. We laugh through his children's early years and I listen in awe when he tells me what they became.

I'm sure he has more questions for me but the sun seemingly races for the horizon, leaving us in the dust.

The cool night air meets my skin and I shiver ever so slightly. The only warmth comes from where my arm is tangled with Mingyu's.

Mingyu looks out the window with a small smile, "And so the day comes to an end."

"So it does." I confirm and wait for him to make the first move cause I'm as sure as hell not going to.

"Random question." Mingyu says, tilting his head to the side while looking at the bare tree in front of us.

"Shoot." I nod my head.

"Do you think I could win a bet against the Gods?" Mingyu asks, completely serious.

I hold back a laugh, "I can't even win a bet against them. And I've tried." I manage to say in a steady tone.

Mingyu sighs, letting go of the thought completely, "Yeah, I didn't think so." He stands up with my arm still entangled in his. Instead of following his actions, I simply sit and look up at him with a small pout and puppy eyes.

He chuckles when he looks down at me, "I don't like it either but I can't exactly not go."

I rise to my feet and Mingyu's smile grows. "Are you my escort out?" He asks.

"Indeed," I answer, "I will see you off to your final resting spot."

Mingyu's face scrunches in distaste, "Ooh, let's not call it that."

"Then what should I call it?" I ask as we walk out of the garden.

"I don't know. Anything but that." Mingyu shrugs.

"Uhm, how about 'The Great Beyond?'" I suggest, "'The After After Life'?"

Mingyu shakes his head, "Ah, I don't know, I don't know."

"What don't you know?" I giggle, "In reality, it is in fact your soul's final resting spot."

"Yeah but, it just sounds weird when you say it." Mingyu nudges me.

"Why?" I question, "I say it literally multiple times a day to multiple souls."

"Because it's you." Mingyu reasons, "You were always like a symbol of life to me."

I scoff lightly and lean in closer to Mingyu as we exit the hotel and enter the night air. "I'm not life. I'm a full embodiment of finality."

"Not to me." Mingyu whispers in my ear as Shin and the awaiting car come into view. "Is that for me?"

I look at his face which is full of curiousity at the car that will take him away from me. "Yeah, it's the car that will take you to the other side."

"Aren't you coming with? Don't you have to escort me?" He questions and looks back at me.

With lowered eyes, I shake my head, "Unfortunately, I can only go as far as the car."

Mingyu abruptly stops a few feet away from the car, "That sucks."

I smile at his simple yet accurate wording, "It does. But at least I can see you off from here." I hold out a hand for him as Shin opens the rear door.

While staring at my hand, Mingyu bits his lip in thought for a few seconds before grabbing my hand and letting me lead him to the car. Shin bows his head and Mingyu's grip tightens.

"I didn't know I would be going alone." He mumbles, a touch of fear in his voice.

I face him and cup his cheek, his head leaning into my touch, "You won't be. The Gods will watch your journey there to make sure you're safe. And I'll be right here thinking about you the entire time."

Mingyu rubs his thumb against the back of my hand, "Will you be told when I make it?" He asks.

"No, they won't tell me." I watch his face fall slightly, "But I'll know. Trust me, I'll know when you get there." I comfort him and his face lifts again but there's still a weight on his shoulders.

"I love you, Kim Mingyu." I remind him and look into his eyes.

Mingyu looks back at me with unwavering eyes, "I love you, too, (y/n). So much." He says before pressing his lips hard against mine.

After a few seconds, he pulls away and wraps me in a tight hug. I wrap my arms around his torso and memorize, again, how his body molds into mine perfectly. With a big breath out, he releases me and places one last kiss to my lips before getting into the car.

Silently, I watch with arms folded as Shin closes the door. When Shin stands by my side, the car begins to drive away. But Mingyu rolls down the window and looks back with a wave.

"Love you!" He yells with a big smile on his face.

A tear slips out as I smile and wave back, "I love you, Mingyu." I whisper as he pulls his head back into the car.

Shin wordlessly leaves me alone when the car has been swallowed by the forest fog and I let the tears fall. Tears of sadness. Tears of memories. Tears of relief that his soul is no longer trapped under my punishment and now is on its way to peace and rest.

I spend a few more minutes standing at the forest's edge before wiping my cheeks and turning back to the hotel. Yong stands at the doorway, waiting with a comforting smile and more files for me. As I walk to her to continue my work and waiting, the moon rises above the horizon and a white chrysanthemum at the base of my tree withers away.

Return to the Navigation Page (Waning Crescent Hotel) to choose the next guest.

"Are you ready to go home?" Mingyu asks, standing up and pulling me up with him.

"Absolutely." I smile and let him lead me out of the garden.

"Do you think they'll have champagne there?" He wonders.

"I sincerely hope they do." I answer, swinging our intertwined hands.

We walk hand in hand to the lobby where Yong, Mun Hee, Soon Bok, and Jiwoo stand solemnly.

"So this is it?" Mun Hee asks with tears in his eyes. "This is the day you leave us?"

I wrap him up in a hug, only a tiny bit annoyed that he's being so sappy. "Maybe I'll get punished again and be back here by the end of the year." I try to joke but Mun Hee abruptly pushes back from me.

"Don't you dare say that. You better not return here." He says angrily through his tears.

I chuckle, "I won't come back. I promise."

Turning to Soon Bok, I thank her for her service and her amazing work. Something I never did and should've done more.

Next onto Jiwoo. I also thank him for his and his entire family's service then I unclip the bracelet that has held him to this place.

"When you leave today, you won't be able to find this place again." I inform him, "I hope that you'll be able to go and live your life happily."

Jiwoo nods, "Thank you for letting me work with you. I won't ever forget you."

I smile sadly, "You will. But thank you."

Finally I reach Yong who is sniffling and trying so very hard not cry.

"You'd think after all these years of waiting that I'd be prepared for this day." She says through sniffles.

"Thank you, Yong." I rests my hands on her shoulders, "For everything. Thank you."

With lips pursed together, she leans forward and wraps me in an unexpected hug. But I soon wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tightly.

We pull apart after a couple seconds and I wipe the few tears that have escaped from her eyes.

"Keep this hotel running beautifully." I tell her before Mingyu grabs my hand again.

With final waves of goodbye, Mingyu and I walk out to the foggy forest that will take us to our resting place.

At the edge of the forest, Shin stands next to an idling car with a somber look on his face.

"(y/n)." He says when we reach him, "It has been an honor working with you. I wish you both a peaceful rest." Shin bows his head and I pat his arm.

"The honor was mine." I tell him with a smile. Now the tears start to line my eyes as the realization fully sets in.

I'm free. I served my years of punishment and now I'm free to let my soul rest.

I turn back towards the hotel and look up to the top where the rooftop patio is outlined with bright string lights. Then to the mid floors where random room lights are turned on, some guests staying in while others opting to experience the hotel's many services. Then to grand base where guests would be milling around, waiting their turns to leave this world.

"(y/n)?" Mingyu softly asks pulling my attention to where he sits just inside the car, "Are you ready?"

I take one last quick look at the hotel before turning away from it. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go."

I lower myself into the car and Shin securely closes the door after I am completely inside. As the car begins to drive forward, Mingyu securely grabs my hand and I let his warmth guide me towards our final destination.

In the garden, the final chrysanthemum withers and dies so that no more stand at the base of the bare tree.

#kpop #kpop imagine #seventeen #seventeen imagine #seventeen mingyu imagine #seventeen mingyu #mingyu imagine #kim mingyu imagine #kim mingyu #writer-k-pop #waning crescent hotel

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charlemange1 · 4 years ago

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Holding Out for a Hero (Frankenstein one-shot)

*Victor just returned from Ingolstadt. Now what does his family do with him? Sometimes caring too much is worse than not being there at all…*

A full moon enveloped the ballroom in shining silver, giving those sitting across from me the appearance of ghosts. From the way their shoulders slumped beneath the weight of life, they seemed more dead than alive.

“We appreciate you seeing our son back home, Monsieur Clerval.” Alphonse repositioned himself on the couch. “I only wish it were under happier circumstances.”

“I could not allow my friend to return alone after such tragic revelations, Monsieur Frankenstein.”

“Please, call me Alphonse.”

“Alphonse.” I echoed, my tongue fumbling with the word. I still wasn’t used to the informalities that came with adulthood. I wasn’t used to the little portrait of William hanging below the painting of Caroline, either. The surrounding candles made their painted eyes look alive, as though they too were part of this most miserable occasion. The ghosts of the dead eager to pass judgment on the living.

Elizabeth slipped into the room like a shadow, settling on the couch beside Alphonse and stroking his hunched shoulder. Ernest sat to their left, his eyes on the floor.

“I’ve put him to bed,” Elizabeth said. “Victor is exhausted, we shouldn’t worry about him wandering in on us.” The kind smile she held for Alphonse soured for me. “Henry, what has happened to Victor? He didn’t write for years, and when you visited him in Ingolstadt you wrote back that he was fine. Fine! The man—if you can call him that—who walked through our doors this morning is anything but!”

“What happened to William has unnerved him, that is all.” My voice faltered. I couldn’t say murdered.

“The news of William alone couldn’t wither a man like that,” Elizabeth paused as Ernest stood and walked to the window. With his back to us, he dragged a finger across the dusty sill. “Caroline’s death shadowed Victor when he left for university, but now it has consumed him. Grief must have been eating at him for years. You promised you would bring him back to us, Henry. How could you have let him fall to such a state? You were his friend!”

My fingers dug into my palms. My feelings for Victor extended far beyond simple acquaintances. She couldn’t understand how wretched his state had been on my arrival. Of the contents I had found in that horrid dorm. Who could explain those racks of rotting flesh seasoned with strange salts rising to the rafters? Sanity does not linger on a floor where bits of animal and man have liquified into mush carelessly tracked across alchemic symbols written in flaking blood!

To think that the son of the renowned Alphonse Frankenstein, fiancé to the fair Elizabeth, brother to sweet William—would be an accursed resurrection man! Our Victor—a graverobber!

I knew he wasn’t writing home, yet where was I while he grieved? I’d remained in Geneva, lost in my world of poets and prose while obeying father’s every order like a dog. I wasn’t fit to wear the crown of heroes in the plays I had forced Victor and Elizabeth to partake in as children—I was a coward. No amount of memorizing the escapades of Odysseus and scripting grand adventures would change that. It was all I could do to throw Victor’s instruments into the Danube before the authorities of Ingolstadt sniffed them out.

My silence to Elizabeth’s question was not to protect the grieving family from Victor’s sins, but to cover my own shame. Father, Victor, the noble Frankensteins, when would I stop disappointing the people I loved?

At least Victor had returned to the light. He had renounced his dark practices—whimpering in his sleep of imaginary monsters that haunted him. That history was buried, and I saw no need to dig it up again. So I held my silence as Elizabeth held my gaze with teary eyes.

“Accusations will not fix the past. What’s done is done,” Alphonse laid his hand over Elizabeths. “What matters now is protecting the son that still remains to me. Henry, you were with Victor at Ingolstadt. Would you consider him a harm to himself?”

“A harm?”

“Yes. He nearly collapsed when greeting us, and when he raved about knowing William’s killer his eyes were…wild. I have never seen such misguided certainty in any sane man.” Alphonse rocked in the chair. His knotted fingers pressed together to ease their shaking. “Henry, we, I—"

“Must I be the one to say it?” Ernest faced us from his place by the window. His eyes were cold chips of the moon behind him. “Henry, is Victor mad? Is it best to send him to the asylum before these fits of his are noticed by higher society?”

“Ernest,” Elizabeth croaked. “Do not say such things!”

“My apologies. I forgot Victor can do no wrong!” Ernest spat. Out of all of us, he had known Victor the least and William the closest. “My brother has been murdered and an innocent woman imprisoned for the crime! All this talk of Victor, Victor, Victor! He never wrote, he wasn’t here! He was never here—but Justine, little William, they were! Now they’re gone, and it’s still all about him!”

Silver tears spilled down Ernest’s cheeks. Elizabeth approached him as though the boy were a wounded animal. “Breathe Ernest, calm down.”

Ernest wrung his hands, turning away. Elizabeth stood still. I was mute.

“He wanted to play hide and seek,” Ernest said. “I let him run off and hide. I abandoned him.”

“You did all you could.”

“You didn’t find him sprawled on the grass,” Ernest’s voice was barely a whisper. “Those horrible bruises around his neck were inflicted by a force of evil. Pure evil! Justine could not have done such a thing. Not her. Not her!”

Ernest’s fingers clawed at his messy hair. Elizabeth yanked them down to his chest.

“Acting this way will not help Justine,” she said firmly. “We must present ourselves in court as sensible people if she is to stand a chance!”

Ernest raised his head, really seeing her for the first time.

"You owe that to your brother.”

“Yes, yes I supposed I do.” Ernest nodded. “I won’t let her be taken from me too.”

“Of course,” Elizabeth smiled, holding back tears. Her eyes flickered to the paintings of the dead. “We owe them that, William.”

“William?” Ernest ripped his hands from Elizabeth’s grasp. “ERNEST! MY NAME IS ERNEST!”

Elizabeth scrambled to correct herself. “No, Ernest, I didn’t mean—”

Ernest slammed the door behind him, cutting her off. The portraits of the dead swayed from the force. Had his yelling woken Victor? Would the noise send his weak mind into another fit?

“Ernest,” Alphonse called after his son, though his voice had lost the authority of a magistrate long ago.

“I will see to him,” I stood, tracing the route to Victor’s room in my mind. Backing toward the door, I added, “Victor is not mad. But his mind is…” my hand circled in the air. “Fragile. Like a budding flower. The Victor we love is there, he’s just not ready to emerge in full yet. We can cox him back out with time. Just, give, me, some, time!”

A handful of candles lit the hallway, and I jumped at the figure slumped against the outside wall. Victor flinched like a startled cat, his watery eyes lowering in shame like a dog. “Victor, you are supposed to be resting,” I whispered, glancing back to the open door where his family waited.

“Resting is all William can do now,” Victor’s voice rose and fell unsteadily. “As long as I live, I intend to act! The monster’s out there, plotting who he’ll take from me next. I know it, Henry!”

“Yes, Victor,” I smiled, stepping closer.

“You don’t believe that I did it,” Victor shook his head, his tangled locks falling over his eyes. “That I conquered death.”

“Indoor voices, Victor!”

“Out of everyone, you alone dared to imagine the impossible. You filled your head with tales of knights and grand adventures! I had thought you’d believe me. You saw my lab. My notes!”

“Those alchemical scribbles have never made sense to me, Victor. You know I’m but a humble poet.”

Pandering to his genius often evoked an eye-roll or a good-natured punch, but now Victor’s arms only trembled in his oversized nightshirt. When Alphonse had the garment purchased, he expected a confident intellectual well accustomed to German cuisine to wear it. The loose fabric made Victor look small, an underwhelming shell wrapped in expectations that didn’t fit. My arm wrapped around his boney shoulders, leading him down the hall toward his bed.

“Let me tell you a story, Victor. One we’d read as kids.”

“I do not need to be fed children’s stories,” Victor chided, stumbling despite my support. “William is the child! Was, he was a child…”

Victor pulled away. I feared where this was going.

“His blood is on that daemon's hands. I must tell the court the truth. They can raise an army. We’ll scour the mountains until that monster is destroyed!”

“Victor, you’re much too weak!” My mind raced. I’d have to appeal to him and play along. “Save your strength! If we are to destroy your ‘monster,’ it must be done the right way. With caution.”

“We?” A bit of life returned to Victor’s eyes.

“Yes!” I nodded, leading him forward. “But you mustn’t speak these things to another soul. They’ll claim insanity and lock you away!”

Victor didn’t look convinced. That stubbornness was what I loved and hated about him.

“If you are institutionalized, how can William be brought to justice. You need to be here, Victor.” Victor lowered his head, considering. “Promise me you won’t speak at Justine’s trial,” I pressed. “Elizabeth has memorized a speech to woo the judge if he leans toward a guilty verdict. You needn’t trouble yourself.”

“Yes,” Victor sighed. His head slumped on my shoulder in exhaustion. The air around us was filled with his shaky breathing. It felt like we were the only two in the house. In the world. “He shall not claim another soul. I won’t let him hurt you, Henry.”

I pulled his shivering body close to mine, away from life, from the pain that had reduced him to this state. “Of course, and I’ll protect you.”

For a moment, just a moment, a massive shadow fell on the moonlit tile. My head snapped to the window, but nothing was there. The shadow vanished. A passing cloud, no doubt. No mortal man could boast such massive size.

“Henry, do you still believe in your adventure stories?” Victor whispered suddenly. “Of Robin Hood and King Arthur? That good can vanquish evil? That we can win?”

Pulling away, I led Victor to his room and settled him into bed.

“We’re men now, Victor. It’s time we gave up such childish inclinations and lived in reality.”

I couldn’t waste time fantasizing about the impossible. To be the hero he needed—to rescue my friend from himself—I had to exist in the real world.

#I'm trying to dabble in subtle romance so have some Clervalstein!#frankenstein fanfiction #frankenstein #henry clerval #victor frankenstein #clervalstein #frankenstein fanfic

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idjitlili · 4 years ago

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Don’t stop me now

Spike btvs x reader

Summary:Imagine looking like Freddie Mercury as a woman like in a 'I want to break free' with a hoover dancing only for an 100+ vampire to join in, unknowingly.

A/n: what can I say , I've been busy with college , and I'm British so we know spike is gonna know Queen too.

Word count: 3891 Y/c=country(or just a state in America I don't know, the whole world isn't America lol.

It was strange to say the least; working for wolfram & hart, you had came from y/c to here, working for a law firm run by a vampire with a soul.

Mental if you ask yourself , you had known Wesley when you was younger, actually he had brought you a ticket to Los Angeles , since your parental figure had called him , and let him know about everything really. Well just that you were now y/a , and in need of a job. That was it you were here now.

You weren't sure what your job was really , you definitely was not a social butterfly, Wesley had mentioned you had to crack codes? Now that you think about it , something to do with researching different demon rituals? That's not the correct word , anyways to do that had write summaries for Angel's upcoming meetings with these different species.

You ever had your own office, you could live in there honestly.

There was a lot going on all the time, frankly it was kinda scary , knowing no one apart from Wesley, who clearly knotted up by the scientist, Fred. Yet you was always invited to the important meetings , you had guessed Wes had put in a word , to help you feel welcome or included. There wasn't really a purpose for you being there.

You were a little nervous that maybe one of them, probably the vampire ,Angel , not knowing that the blond British man was one too, could read your mind. What would he find the that was terrifying (except you read dirty smut) . You were sat by Wes , at the end of the table closest to the window. Which also meant you were sat next to Angel, with the jelled blond bad boy opposite you.

"Okay, so cannibal vampire cult...what's with that, and why is that a problem?" Angel had began , with the same brooding face as , he had on 24 hours a day.

Gunn , had cleared his throat briefly, causing everyone to turn their heads towards him. "Well, it's quite simple, they are killing all our clients." Yeah this was waste of your life, you had already began doodling on the notepad in front of you. Unknowingly forgetting you were in an 'significant' meeting.

Not knowing how much time had gone by, felt like hours , freshly finished school and know you were here? Sucky. You were only jolted out of your thoughts when a foot had nudged yours, looking up slowly to the man in front of you , waiting for your reaction.

He was quite handsome you could not deny that, a small blush had raised to your cheeks , as he had caught you in a trance of boredom, you had lifted your eyebrows at him in confusion. With nothing but a smirk in response you had tried to listen again to the meeting.

"So you are saying we need bait? But who would we use? This whole place is monsters, " Fred's face with disgust at the word 'monsters' as she delivered her thoughts, Wes thought for a moment his hand at his lip, indicting so as he looked at the pine table.

"No,not necessarily," He had gestured to you , all eyes on you, feeling like a stripper, wow this is attention? Blush upon your face once again,"w-wha" choking on your own words ,before Angel had shook his head "Absolutely not, Wes, that's not fair."

"Yeah! I'm human too."

"And me, hey! So are you Wes."

"Uhhh, Mister Angel, " What else was you supposed to call him? Dad? He had looked at you from the disagreement, nodding for you to go on.

"S-say if I was, uh, what's the chances of me dying?" The pencil in your hands being gripped tightly in your now sweaty palms, but Angel is not given chance to reply. "He wouldn't allow that, love. Would you 'mister' Angel" the blond vampire smirk was evident as he looked at the brooding brunette.

"Hold on a second, why do they want a human, if they are cannibal?" Okay that did make sense, use your ears y/n.

"They can't just drink each other , they need something other than other vampires. That's only when they actually find one of ours." Yeah, you guess that the blond man did make sort of sense, you had just "hm" in response.

You had turned to Wesley, gesturing for him to come closer, so that you could whisper into his ear, the rest watched in confusion. Hold on Angel still didn't answer your question. "Uh, um, did you volunteer me because I'm a virgin? Does that make me more attractive to the vampires?" You had really hoped that no one had super hearing, Wes pondered for a second, your hand still on his shoulder.

"I'm not quite sure, I'm probably not the best person to ask , you should bring that up with Angel." Wow thank you , so much. You moved back into sitting in your chair correctly. Twiddling your thumbs, to pretend like no one was looking at you,felt like hours that you were sat there, before your foot was nudged again, you peeped up to see the same blond man looking at you. Who else is it going to be? Johnny Depp? No.

"Come on ,love." You weren't even sure of his name, and he was calling you love. Instead of speaking you had just stared back blankly. Most awkward meeting. "Would you just ask me then? Surely it's not that bad,no one else has to hear." Only his Spike saw the look Angel was giving him, awww soft boy. He did not seem like he was evil..only if you knew him a couple of years ago.

You had stood up, in hopes spike would do the same,so you wouldn't have to kneel next to him and whisper. He stood up as you made your way to him , moving away from the table, before turning back to the others. "You lot carry on, " With that he led you away out of Angel's office to an empty one. This is so dramatic but you don't really want to be talking about your virginity to these people, well except spike.

"So,love, what's the problem?" He had towered over you, he was quite handsome yes, but you felt intimidated in honesty. "Uh,well, since I'm going to be bait...well ,um, Are virgins more at risk at being snacked on? If that makes a difference to vampires? Oh I'm sorry, uh I-" he let out a chuckle at you, you moved your gaze to your feet. Why did you have to wear these heels, you didn't see Patrick swayze anywhere.

"Yes, they can smell it as soon as you walk into a room and it tastes different to other humans. ,love."

"W-wait how do you know?"

"I've had my fair share, now come on , love-come on I'm not going to eat you."

"Pfft- I'm not a virgin."

"Sure love,"

And with that you both headed back to the meeting , before you left to be bait Fred had informed you Spike had a soul like Angel after you had questioned him to her and Wesley.

Now you were in the middle of a park at 1 am , which happened to be not even a mile from the vampire base. It was freezing , in a poncho with a tank top, apparently to show off your neck under the street light, you were pretty sure that the vampires didn't give a shit if you were wearing Michael Myers mask.

Ah yes, first day on the job, risks of death 99.9% , lovely.

What exactly are you supposed to do? Pretty sure that mister mysterious and mister Stevie Nicks/vanilla ice are hiding in the bushes or something. Oh how you wish that Keanu Reeves would swoop you away from this situation.

Stood in the open park, kicking the mud with you shoe , well until you are body slammed backwards onto the floor, by obviously an indeed ugly vampire. Where's David from lost boys you wouldn't mind if it was him , but this dude stank. He was not even a second away from biting you- wait sorry his fangs were in your neck. It hurt like period pains in your neck, well until it was over , when he was yanked off by a blurry figure , as you felt your body being lifted, that was it.

You had woken up the next morning under a blanket on the sofa in your office, a plaster on your neck, water on the table. You were never going to do that , with the huge headache and the low sugar levels. As you looked down realising your movie white tank top was now drenched in blood. Deciding it was best to go talk to someone to go home, you left the office.

Your heels now discarded , your bare feet padding against the carpet floor , all the way to Angels office, Harmony informing you that he was in a meeting with the others. One brief knock on the pine door, was all it took for the similar brooding vampire had opened the door , gesturing you in.

Okay it was a bit naughty to not changed the blood stained tank, since there are two vampires in the room. Soon you were sat exactly where you were 24 hours ago, as were everyone else. "Uh, um ," No one was speaking , just staring at you really. "Y/n, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have forced you into doing that , I didn't mean for you to get hurt." Wesley was undoubtedly guilty, probably thinking about how made your parental figure was going to be more like.

"I just like to say, I could've gotten aids."

"Uh, that's not how that works." Fred was honestly shaken by your words, well not really she just thought well actually you don't know.

"That was just dramatic effect. I'm quite annoyed , I did not want fucking Edward sucking me like I was juice carton. Did you even kill the cult?" Your voice sounded like sandpaper, as you delivered your anger with pop culture references and dramatic gestures.

"Yeah we did, well not me but still." Lorne smiled at you with concern , he had felt sympathy for you , hoping the bite wouldn't scar.

"Well good, um, I was wondering if I could go home now? Please?" You already hate this job, Angel had nodded, queuing you to stand up , doing a small bow in respect , going home to have a bath and sleep.

Wesley had called you not long after you gotten home , to inform you that you had been given an extra few days off. Wow first day then long weekend, mental.

Once you had gotten back on Monday, your neck was not healed still, but you had to come back otherwise you was going to be homeless.

Surprisingly , the work was easy , too easy, but you weren't to complain... there was tv with a DVD player, you were absolutely chuffed. It happened that you had brought cds in your bag accidentally. After storing those cds in that bag when coming to Los Angeles.

So , you did work through your work a little too fast, nothing to do, so since the demon cleaners suck arse , and didn't clean up the blood from last week, you had went and gotten a Hoover and cleaning supplies. Queen and david bowie, playing on the tv, you know you can use DVD players to play cds, if you didn't know.

Maybe it was a little bad you playing slightly loud music while hoovering, dancing as you went, it was a shitty Hoover so it was taking a while. Your cardigan and heels discarded, your forehead laced with sweat, what could you say who does like Queen. Thus I want to break freebegan to play.

"I want to break free I want to break free I want to break free from your lies," The fact this song was a parody of coronation street. As soon as the beat began , you had also began aggressively Hooving, the long dramatic strides, even the the lip twitches as you lip-synced.

"You're so self satisfied I don't need you I've got to break free God knows, God knows I want to break free," You had stopped to flip the fringe of your hair , before resting your hands on your hips , the self confident head shake, another hair flip out of your face.

"I've fallen in love I've fallen in love for the first time And this time I know it's for real I've fallen in love, yeah God knows, God knows I've fallen in love It's strange but it's true, yeah,"

Obviously you couldn't take your shirt off , like Freddie, but yeah your skirt rising up , blouse too buttons undone was enough. Your hands hands spread out like a star for moments, you didn't know that Spike had heard the music and began to locate the source.

"I can't get over the way you love me like you do But I have to be sure When I walk out that door. Oh, how I want to be free, baby Oh, how I want to be free Oh, how I want to break free"

Looking up to the ceiling, arms lift out to the sides , legs apart. Dramatic spin, clenching of fists to your chest. Spike walking up to the do slowly opening it , seeing you shaking your head 'I want to break free' Now some elves but you can't do that your not Legolas. Or cows you are not sure.

Now not sure how you didn't see Spike . This was embarrassing, spike wasn't copying really, not much anyways. It wasn't long after that dont stop me now started. Wow this is embarrassing. You had just abandon the Hoover at this point.

"I feel alive and the world I'll turn it inside out, yeah And floating around in ecstasy"

Bringing you hands in front of you up near your neck , wiggling your fingers, spike did the same.

" So don't " You looked forward, "stop," Looked towards the window , as did spike . "me" Back forward. "now" "don't stop me 'Cause I'm having a good time, having a good time I'm a shooting star, leaping through the sky Like a tiger defying the laws of gravity." Jumping up , scratching like a Tiger standing side on, moving your arms around you 200 degrees , you were doing a duet , without knowing it.

" I'm a racing car, passing by like Lady Godiva I'm gonna go, go, go" Honestly you don't know how to describe these moves in honesty go watch Paul Rudd do it.

"There's no stopping me I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah." Your arms almost touching spikes as you lift them up as you circle your arse in a small circle, before pointing up.

"Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit"

Okay you had climb onto the desk , spot Spike oh my god , you couldn't of represented the fear , well until he had threw his jacket on the sofa ripped his shirt off, winking at you, shaking his shoulders.

"I'm traveling at the speed of light I wanna make a supersonic man out of you "

"Don't" you had wiggled yours back, before pointing at the platinum vampire,gesturing him to come to you .

"stop me now, I'm having such a good time I'm having a ball Don't stop me now" As he reached you , you held out your hands for him , helping him up onto the table.

"If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call" Each of you looking at each other, as you danced ,sorta looking like Rick I'm never going to give you up, a lot of twisting , and hand movements.

"Don't" "stop" " me now ('cause I'm having a good time) Don't stop me now (yes, I'm havin' a good time)" Spike had grabbed your hands twirling you, ending up with you in front of him facing away. Throwing out thumbs up to the side of you as you got closer to the desk top.

"I don't want to stop at all" Before rising your arms up , Spike pulling you up, honestly if you knew him deeply you wouldn't believe that he would do this, he's a vampire.

"Yeah, I'm a rocket ship on my way to Mars On a collision course I am a satellite, I'm out of control I am a sex machine, ready to reload. Like an atom bomb about to Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh explode." Throwing your head back then forwards quickly , with your leg up, clicking your finger.

"I'm burnin' through the sky, yeah Two hundred degrees That's why they call me Mister Fahrenheit" Neither of you had noticed the music had gained more attention then you may of realised , Angel ,Wesley, Gunn, Fred and Lorne were hiding behind the sofa.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Don't stop me, hey, hey, hey"

Spike jumped off of the table turning back to you , five feet away, holding his arms out to catch you.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Ooh ooh ooh, I like it"

With that you had jumped, (Spike watched dirty dancing? Probably Harmony's fault.) Effortlessly he had caught you you lifting you up, for a few seconds.

"Don't stop me, don't stop me Have a good time, good time"

Lowering you down slowly , your arms around his neck, panting slightly, uh he wasn't sweaty , he's dead but you were covered in sweaty.

Soon enough the song came to an end , you were still in the vampires embrace , his arms around your shoulders securing you.

It hasn't even been an minutes ,clapping begins, someone turns of the Hoover and the music. You both turn around slowly pulling out of the embrace to see , the brooding Angel laughing with everyone.

"Bloody hell, perverts much." Annoyance interweaved in Spikes voice, you could share that embarrassment.

Looking at your feet realising how inappropriate you look , your blouse now see through due to the sweat , the cotton clinging to your body, wrapping your arms around yourself, to cover."uh , Angel , I was only cleaning and that because, um I completed my work, uhh there was still blo-""it's fine, as long as you are feeling better, " you had nodded at him before going back to looking at your feet.

Moments go by with silence from you and Spike as the others are talking away , no doubt about you two. You are soon pulled out of your trance when a heavy weight is placed on your shoulders , looking up to see Spike placing his long leather jacket on you , sending you a small smirk before walking out of your office , still shirtless.

"I haven't seen him like that in a long time, he is fond of you." With that Angel left too. " Aw, I'm glad you are settling in y/n/n , I just never thought you would do so ,by dancing to Queen with a vampire." Wesley had patted your back , leaving with Fred who just smiled , followed by Gunn and Lorne.

Thus you grabbed your stuff , to go home , you had danced to the end of the day. Walking out of the office , hoping Harmony didn't see you and kill you for Spike giving you his jacket.

She had already gone thank god , no death today, the next day , you had brought Spikes jacket with you. In search of him in the morning, you had hidden it in your bag , heading to Harmony's desk.

"Uh, have you seen Spike today?" Please don't kill me. She had looked up at you with a polite smile. "He's literally just left Angel's office, something about going to taking a car or something? Why?"

"Oh, I just need to pass a message from Wesley to him, thank you." You had lied , but you hoped that Wesley would go with it, if she asked him. Rushing down to Angel's private car park, in hopes of catching Spike, which you did but he almost hit you with the car.

Your hands placed on the hood, breathing roughly before moving to the drivers side , as he rolled down the window, smirking yet again. The car had had black out windows so you guess that's why he was going out in the day?

"Awe, all out of breathe for me , love?" You had ignored his comment , pulling out his heavy jacket from your bag, passing it to him. "Cheers,love." You had nodded, turning away to head back up. That was it until about 2:45 , again all your work was done, just sitting there doing nothing, but twiddling your thumbs.

So you decided , maybe you should go get some air outside, or go home you weren't sure. Swinging the office door open to see , Spike.

"Ah, oh Hi."

"Going somewhere, love?" Well that sounded like a threat , but he was not smirking like I'm going to chop your fucking head off.

"I don't know really , I think I'm going home."

"I'll drive you."

"Really?" He didn't seem to be the type to drop you off home to to your mother , not that she was there, but still, he had nodded , and that was it you walked with him. Until Harmony stopped you both, she had frowned slightly before smiling again.

"So you got the message from Wesley then, spike?" You looked at Spike who didn't notice you looking , just stood looking at the blonde girl in confusion,until you pretend to resist your bag accidentally knocking him with bag.

"Yeah,"

"What was it?"

"Mind your own business, wanker." With that he had walked around her with you ,guiding you with his arm around your shoulder.

Once you were both were sat in the car , you had given Spike your address , immediately he had started driving. "So what was that about?"

"Well, uh, Wesley informed me about everyone , said you had something with Harmony, and she's a vampire. So I asked where you were this morning to give back your jacket but didn't want to say that, just in case she tried to eat me." Spike had let out a laugh, "I can see your concern, love , she's a bloody nightmare." You had let out a small laugh of understanding.

"Hey, do you still eat food?."

"Yeah, not a lot , but sometimes I do, why do you ask?"

" y-you've been very nice to me , since I'd been here, and you are driving me home.. uh so I was wondering if you would like to come in and have something. I don't have blood , uh other than my own and uh I lost a lot of that last week. You don't have to , um, I jus-" "I will, love,"

"Oh brilliant, uh I make some nice cookies."

"Great, love. Can't wait."

#buffy the vampire slayer #spikebtvs #spike btvs #btvs #spike x reader #spike imagine #spike x you #spike x y/n #spike btvs x reader #spike btvs imagine #james marsters #angel #angel 1999

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